Title: Where Nightmares Come True

Fandom: Merlin

Rating: T

Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Dragoon (not a pairing, just in case you wondered), Arthur, and Morgana, mostly. Also some OCs.

Spoilers: Set a little bit after Series Four, so . . .

Warnings: Mild violence in later chapters, and maybe some disturbing descriptions.

Disclaimer: Here's looking at you, BBC.

Beta: DeleaMarie (may her hair grow perfectly-Thanks!:)

AN: My readers, this is the last chapter. Enjoy! . . . and please don't kill me for the ending.

Chapter Thirteen: Knight, Death, and the Devil

Facing the monster the first time had been terrifying, but Arthur hadn't really had much of a choice in the meeting. It had been thrust upon him.

Facing it for the second time, knowing what it was and what it could do, and knowing how he would feel, took a lot of Arthur's courage. He later thought that it shouldn't have taken so much, but that's Arthur for you.

He still didn't feel like he had much of a choice. Because there was something that scared him a lot more than facing the nightmare.

They had it trapped in a relatively open square near the gate to the citadel. Twenty knights and more than fifty soldiers battled it, hemming it in. The news that only Farrell could kill it had passed around, and everyone had rallied around that. Swords blunted and maces flew back into their owner's faces upon meeting the skin of the beast, but here was a man that could save them. They clung to that hope, and welcomed Farrell despite his heritage.

There was just one small problem: Farrell was not a warrior. How he had even managed to hurt the monster in the first place, Arthur didn't know. The man had no instincts, talent, skill, anything. He was lucky he survived the first ten seconds. Arthur was sure he was refraining from using magic, and for that the king was grateful, but it was still aggravating.

And then, something even worse happened.

"WHAT. Are you doing here?" Arthur almost snarled as he was pulling one of the injured soldiers away and looked up to see who was assisting him.

"Helping," Merlin said shortly. "Since you obviously don't have eyes." Though Arthur would never have admitted it, he was grateful for the help; his arm was starting to ache again.

"And Dragoon-?" Arthur began, but was answered by a flash of light.

Unlike Farrell, Dragoon the Great had no qualms about using magic in Camelot. He pulled out the flashiest and loudest spells in his memory to distract the monster, make it rear so that Farrell could reach its heart. But the spells also distracted everyone else. Half of the soldiers now directed their attentions to Dragoon, unsure as to whether he was a new threat.

The monster threw itself backwards, crushing a wall and the house behind it. Farrell rushed forward to take advantage, but it snapped at him, barely missing his head. Merlin and Arthur gulped simultaneously.

"That strategy isn't working," Arthur muttered, moving forward, but a spike impaled the ground at his feet, and Merlin yanked him backwards in anticipation of the explosion-but the nightmare was too distracted. Small mercies.

But then, the worst of all. Farrell tripped.

Arthur almost groaned. Pacifist Druids, he cursed, but the nightmare wasted no time in thinking. It lunged forward and trapped Farrell under its claw. The spikes crowning the center head bristled and one pointed directly at him.

In that moment, Arthur's heart nearly stopped. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, but his world was darkening, narrowing to one point.

The spike flew.

Dragoon jumped.

If a sorcerer steps in front of an arrow to stop its flight, everyone always asks, "Well, why didn't you just stop it with magic?!"

Good question. The answer is that most magic requires thought, and stepping in front of arrows is usually an action that precedes thought.

Merlin thought about this a lot, later. The image of his older self jumping in front of the spike was one that stayed with him for the rest of his life, and every time it came to him he had to stop for a moment and rid his mind of the image. There is just something totally other about watching yourself get pierced through, a feeling like nothing else. Merlin was sure he would never feel something like that again, and how could he? Not many people have the opportunity of watching themselves like that.

For a moment, Merlin didn't move, too stunned to do anything. The monster, getting over the disappointment of missing its intended target, fixed its eyes on Dragoon.

Merlin knew what would happen next, and he was not having it. He jumped forward, missing Sir Leon by an inch, and, by pure instinct, pushed the monster backwards. No words, nothing, just a push with his mind. It was weak, but it was enough. The nightmare shrieked and reared back, not injured but hurt, exposing the dark wound on its belly. The claw holding Farrell down rose again.

Farrell took his chance and leapt up, dashing closer as the monster backed away. The wound he had already given it was in plain view-and reach-and he aimed for it, because it was a spot that was already weak. The sword went in, all the way up the hilt, and Farrell threw himself away again as the nightmare registered pain. Everyone drew away from it as it thrashed around in agony. One of the heads grabbed the sword and ripped it out, but that only made it worse. Blood dripped out the wound and the creature's mouth, blood as dark as its heart.

Merlin didn't seem to notice; he was kneeling by Dragoon, trying to save him. In his whole life, he had never felt so useless, not even when Arthur had been hurt in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. He felt his ignorance of magical healing more keenly than ever before.

Dragoon grabbed Merlin's hand tightly, trembling. "Merlin, listen to me," he breathed, his voice almost too faint to be heard.

Merlin sobbed, "Just hold still! Oh, why am I so rubbish at healing spells?!"

"Merlin, I need you to listen."

The young warlock could hardly see Dragoon through his tears, but he knew it was too late to save him. The best he could do was obey him.

"There can never be two Emryses," the old warlock said laboriously. "This world wasn't meant to take it. This is the Old Religion balancing itself out."

Merlin knew this to be true, but the truth was hard to accept. "I wish you could have stayed," he choked between his tears. He didn't even notice one of the heads weave over him for a moment, twisting, before flying away again.

"It would have been nice to have some real memories for the first time," Dragoon agreed, his breath coming faster and quicker, "but it's too late now."

Suddenly, his grip tightened, and he spoke urgently. "One of these days, you'll have to tell Arthur, or he'll find out. It'll have to be soon." Gulping, Dragoon whispered, "Merlin, if Arthur rejects you, if your friendship means nothing to him, then he's not worth it, do you understand me? He was never worth it."

Merlin didn't have the heart to disagree. He wasn't even sure if he should disagree.

"You think you're the pawn of destiny, but destiny is just the blueprint," Dragoon insisted. "You're the one who draws it. Destiny said you were to be at Arthur's side, but you and no one else decided to not be a chicken."

He had to force his next words out, slowly and precisely. "Now go-and don't-be-an idiot."

After it was all over, Arthur found Merlin kneeling next to Dragoon's body with a strange, contemplative expression. Slowly, the king crouched down next to his manservant and looked at Merlin's hand, which was still resting on Dragoon's.

"He saved Farrell's life," Arthur said softly, "and with him, the rest of Camelot. He will be honored for that."

Merlin took in a deep breath, coming back to life as it were. "Yes," he murmured. "I'm . . . glad."

The strange look was still there, so Arthur popped a hand onto Merlin's shoulder and asked, "So, was Gwaine right? Are you related to him?" He wasn't sure he would have believed Merlin even if he'd said no.

Merlin tilted his head back and smiled. "Related to him? I guess you could say that. Though I'm not sure if it's possible to be related to yourself."

Arthur took a moment to think at that, decided it made absolutely no sense, and said, "What are you talking about, Merlin? Nonsense again?"

When Merlin met his eyes, he looked nervous and jittery, but his voice was calm, almost amused, as he said, "Oh, Arthur, do I have a story and a half to tell you . . ."

"They've promised that dreams can come true-but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too."

— Oscar Wilde

The End

No, for reals, that's the end! We all know what happens next, I really don't need to tell you. Thanks to everyone that reviewed and favorited and stuff. Now if you could all do me a favor and tell me what you thought of the story in general. Is there anything you think I could do better? Who was your favorite character? Least favorite? What was your favorite part? Least favorite? Was anyone OOC? I'm looking to improve my writing here, so any feedback would be lovely:)

That's all, folks! ;)