A/N: This is A/U for episode 12 of season 5. I am also warning you now for a major character death. I have also been told recently that I make people want to stab themselves because of feelings, so that should probably be mentioned. This was written for a Lyrics and Melodies challenge over on Hearts of Camelot, and it got out of control and ended up more than double the acceptable size. This is the full version, and a condensed version was posted there for the challenge.

Summary: Arthur pressed his hand against the wound on Merlin's chest, knowing even as he did that it was useless. He had seen Mordred's blade run the other man clear through. He was a knight; he knew very well how serious it was but... Not Merlin.

Dreaming of you won't help me do

All that you dreamed I could

"Merlin, no, Merlin." His hands slipped over wet cloth, streaking red against his servant's skin as he frantically ran his fingers along Merlin's face. "Merlin!"

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered. His hands grasped at Arthur's weakly, as he stared up at his king. There were tears on his face, panic and desolation and sorrow. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop, stop it." Arthur pressed his hand against the wound on Merlin's chest, knowing even as he did that it was useless. He had seen Mordred's blade run the other man clear through. He was a knight; he couldn't fool himself into forgetting all he knew of battle wounds and he knew very well how serious it was but he... couldn't. Not Merlin. With his free hand he pulled Merlin up onto his lap, trying to make him more comfortable.

Merlin let out a soft whine, and returned to his laboured breathing. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I just, I couldn't. I couldn't risk you'd send me away. I had to keep you safe. I just wanted to keep you safe."

"Merlin! Merlin, stop it. It's all right, just –" He looked around desperately for someone – anyone – who could help, but the battlefield was empty but for the dead and dying (and Mordred's body, flung far away and broken against the cliff face, except too late, too late for Merlin's magic – his surprising, traitorous magic – to save him... but it could have saved him: Arthur would give anything...) "You'll be... you'll be just... just stop apologizing." He smoothed a shaking hand over Merlin's hair, biting a lip to stop the tears.

"Listen, Arthur, listen. You're going to be... you're already a great king. You're going to bring about a rein of peace and you'll unite Albion and you'll be amazing. I was only... only meant to get you here –"

"No –"

"You are who's important –"

"You're important to me. Merlin. Please."

Merlin smiled. "Try not to be a clotpole all the time."Arthur laughed but it ended with a hitch, like a sob. Tears escaped against his will, one falling down on Merlin's blood-streaked cheek. "I don't regret a thing," he whispered, looking up at Arthur with his too-blue eyes. "I thought... all along that... you were going to die here, and I couldn't... I just couldn't. I'm glad it's me." Arthur shook his head, almost angrily. "No, I am. You're..." Merlin smiled, "my friend. And you're a...great king."

His eyes closed.

Arthur sat up gasping, face wet with sweat and tears. Gwen was up beside him instantly, her hands soft on his back as she whispered soothing words. His breathing slowed quickly and he buried his face against her neck. He was used to these dreams by now; they had been a nightly occurrence since Camlaan.

"He wouldn't want you to suffer like this," Gwen whispered in the silence, her voice breaking.

Arthur shook his head. He knew. Things were good. Camelot – Albion, Merlin's Albion – was prospering.

And Merlin was dead.

"I'm going to get some reading done," he whispered finally, kissing Gwen before he slipped from their bed. He didn't look back, not wanting to see her alone amongst their rumpled blankets, her face masked in sorrow and concern, but he had seen it other nightmare-filled nights and knew what was behind him as he left their chambers.

He walked down the hall to a small room he'd had set aside for his use nights like this, when he didn't want to keep Gwen awake with his mourning. He left the papers untouched on the table and stood at the window, watching as the sun touched the eastern horizon, the land in darkness yet under the lightening sky.

There were times he wanted nothing more than for the dreams to stop.

There were times when he couldn't imagine not seeing Merlin's face for a day – even if only in a nightmare.

Merlin was not there to guide him with his surprising wisdom, to guard him with his secret magic, to be there for Arthur when he needed someone to remind him he was human, but his vision of what Arthur could be...

Arthur would not let his friend down.

The sun broke over the horizon and its light spread across an Albion united in peace, where magic was practiced openly once more, the people prosperous and unafraid.

They would speak of King Arthur in legends for thousands of years.

(Arthur would dream of Merlin until the day he died).