Disclaimer: I don't own the BBC's Merlin. I'm not trying to profit from it.

This is Day 24 of my fic-a-day New Year's Project. Major thanks to my beta, Cajast, who pointed out plot holes and straightened out the kinks in my punctuation.

These visions are driving me mad, Merlin. I see so many things, so many contradictory things. They never stop. Sometimes, I can't tell which is the reality and which are the dreams. I can't remember who I (the real I) am supposed to hate and who I'm supposed to love. Is the real world the one where you poisoned me, or the one where I bore you children? Do I know how Gwen looks in death because I killed her, or simply because I have dreamed it so many times?

I'm an old woman. Maybe I'm losing my grip, alone in my cave.

I see them all the time, Merlin. It's not just dreams anymore. I sit at my little table and reach for a cup, and I see a thousand goblets and chalices and skins.

Some of them are in your hand, Merlin. No, don't flinch. Not all are poison.

I am a seer, even in my madness. I see other worlds, things that never were. Some are ugly, some are torturous, and even the sweetest merely tantalize. They all start with one little change…

Sometimes, I see a world where Uther never resorted to magic to get a son, never became the man that I hated. Ygraine loved me as the child that she could never bear. Because she lived, the Great Purge never came to pass. Balinor lived out his days in peace, and you were never conceived. My father acknowledged me on his deathbed, and I mourned him with all my heart and was a good queen in honor of his memory. That's not such a horrible vision, is it? You aren't in it, and neither is Arthur, but at least it's peaceful.

There's a dream where you died before you were ever Arthur's servant. It wasn't really my fault. I turned and looked over the screen and saw a boy with wide blue eyes watching me dress. I screamed, and the guards came running. I think you panicked; you should have known better than to fight them with magic. They caught you, and Gaius wrote your mother the hardest letter of his life. Arthur died at Mary Collins' knife, and Uther's mind burned on Arthur's pyre. I was queen at one and twenty years old, and magic was legal for a time, until the war came. I didn't know how to fight, and Cenred conquered us. That dream is not so peaceful.

There's a world where Arthur died in a tilting accident before you ever reached Camelot, and you became my advisor instead. You kept me sane with kind words and honest counsel, and you were the truest servant a monarch could wish for. They called you "the Queen's Shadow." In that dream, you poured your entire life into my service. I think you loved me, but you never let me see it.

In one dream, Uther resisted the urge to betray his friend, and I was never born. Uther ruled for long years, and the courtyard of Camelot was charred by thousands of bonfires. By the time you finally persuaded Arthur to legalize magic, the Old Religion was nearly dead. You took what Gaius had taught you and became a teacher of sorts. You gave the rest of your life to restoring what knowledge of the craft you could.

There's a dream where you married Gwen. You stole a kiss, almost by accident, from a smitten girl and suddenly found that there was no truer heart in all the world. Sweet Gwen. You trusted her with your secret, and she helped you to trust me. Arthur married Elena and was happier than he ever expected. They had respect, and trust, and deep, deep friendship. Their children were blond as summer, happy as larks, and outspoken as their parents. I like that dream.

There's a dream where you couldn't stop the Afanc in time, and they burned Gwen in the town square. You never forgave Arthur for allowing it. When Mordred was caught, you refused to enlist Arthur's assistance and tried to free him yourself. They captured you both, of course. You broke out of the cells, stunning the guards, and went on the run. Uther died in battle with the Black Knight, and Arthur met the same fate the following day.

In one of the dreams, you took Mordred to your mother, and she raised him as a second son, nearly as great a man as the first. The Druids crowned him, a king to speak to Arthur as an equal; unprecedented, but perhaps necessary. They understood each other, those two, and they forged a peace which included my initiation in the Old Religion. They made me the bridge between two worlds, a Pendragon and a priestess both in one, and I helped to create a new order.

In another, you let Mordred die, and the shame destroyed you.

In one, I let Tauren kill Uther. You hid the truth, for my sake and because the damage was already done, but Arthur blamed it on magic. The Second Great Purge was as terrible as the first.

In one dark, dark dream, Sigan's soul possessed you and poured out vengeance on Camelot. The city burned, but a misfired spell broke the Great Dragon's chain and freed him to stop the slaughter. It was too late to save the royal family.

There's a world where Morgause had a different forfeit in mind for Arthur. He asked her, first with pride, and finally with pleading, to reconsider, but he kept his word like the honorable man that he was. She poisoned a part of his heart with her touch, and the mockery in her eyes when she saw him at his most helpless haunted him. The child that she bore broke his kingdom.

There's a world where you let Arthur kill his father, spill his king's blood on the stones of his council chamber. Although magic was legalized, the Camelot he ruled was a dark place.

There's a world where Arthur got me with child before we learned the truth of my parentage. He vomited when Uther told him what we'd done, and he never looked me in the eyes again. Our baby was a beautiful little girl with curls like sunshine and my green eyes. Sir Leon married me out of pity, and to give protection and a name to his prince's child. In the end, my daughter's eyes called me back out of madness.

There are a hundred dreams where you told me the truth, gave in and whispered "I have magic, too." In many, it saved my soul. There's one where it broke me, and dozens and dozens where I used it to break you and Camelot. Sometimes, it made me your friend, and, other times, your darkest enemy. Sometimes, it made me love you.

Do you know, Merlin, that in many of those worlds we were wed? Despite everything, it happened over and over again. We saved the world side by side, or we held each other when we could not stop its burning, or we destroyed it hand in hand because I made you love me more than Arthur. You were a good husband, tender and true, and, no matter what happened, you always brought me flowers.

There's a dream where I pulled you into my chambers, stole your innocence, and vanished from Camelot without a trace. In that world, I raised our daughter as a weapon and you were forced to destroy us both. When it was over, you went to the Isle of the Blessed and walked beyond the veil, leaving the world of the living behind.

There's a dream where I pulled you into my chambers, took you to bed, and slit your throat as you lay sated beside me. I bore our daughter in exile and raised her as an enemy of Camelot. They had no sorcerer to stand against her magic and her hatred.

There's a dream where I pulled you into my chambers, and you held me like your wildest dream had come true. Your touch was so artless and sincere that I couldn't bear to betray you. I wavered between light and dark, love and hatred, for years. In the end, I let you heal me.

There's a dream where you came to me and asked me to help protect Freya. I sat with her for an evening, soothing, and she fell asleep on my shoulder. She slept too long; her transformation was as quick and sudden as my death. Uther took to his chambers, mourning, and never came out again. Gaius finally broke Freya's curse, working for weeks because I'd begged him for help on the morning of my final day on earth. In that world, she named your firstborn Morgana, and you held her as she wept for me.

There's a world where you killed Uther, and Arthur burned you in the city square as a warning to sorcerers. There's another where it's me, I burned, and still another where our fingers were intertwined on the hilt of the knife. In that one, I killed Arthur to save your life, and you never forgave me.

There's a world where Arthur was crippled by a stray arrow, and I became his right hand and the leader of his armies, the Lady Morgana on her white steed with blood on her sword. He married Gwen, but the people meant me when they spoke of the Queen. You and I were lovers, of course, but we never married. Too much of me belonged to my king. It hurt you more than you admitted to know that Arthur and I were two sides of the same coin, closer than twins, almost the same person, and you only warmed my bed and did his magic.

In one world, you told Arthur your secret too early. He banished you. You took shelter in Gwen's house and snuck back into the castle to save his life. The guards had orders to shoot on sight, and you knew it, but, of course, you didn't care. The guards told me that your last word was "Arthur."

I see a dream where Gaius died under Aredian's hands. Arthur was horrified, and he decided once and for all that his father was wrong about magic. You told him your secret, and he swore to you in honor of Gaius that Camelot would one day be safe for magic. When Morgause used me to lay sleep on Camelot, he made her the same promise, and offered his help in saving innocent magic users. Uther lived for another decade, but, somehow, the dungeons were never quite as secure after that, and the bonfires grew more and more uncommon. When Arthur became king, they stopped altogether.

I see a world where you tricked Morgause and told her it was aconite, not hemlock, and I died. You defeated Morgause, and Arthur reigned for decades in peace, but you never forgave yourself.

There's a world where you refused to kill me, and Arthur died in the silence of a sleeping castle.

There's a dream where you claimed Kilgarrah's life, for Camelot and because he made you kill me. When Morgause trapped you and took her vengeance, there was no dragon to answer your call.

There's a world where Balinor reached Camelot alive and dismissed Kilgarrah. You were so proud to be his son that you nearly wept, although you couldn't tell Arthur why. Your father asked you to return to Ealdor with him, reclaim the years that you could have had. You smiled through your tears and refused. He smiled, embraced you, and didn't try to argue, because he saw that you and Arthur were a partnership with the power to change everything. He saw correctly, and you did.

There's a dream where a pair of misplaced love potions tipped you into Arthur's bed. You were both so shocked the next morning that the signs of sorcery went completely unnoticed. In that dream, you lost an arm to the rogue sorcerer who'd done it, and you both drank only from hip flasks for the rest of your lives.

In another variation, he banished Gwen, and you offered to help him drown his sorrows. "Comfort" got a little out of hand. He woke the next day and was revolted. You pretended that it didn't matter. When Gwen returned and they were married, your heart broke a little. Only a little, though, because he was happy, and you were his most faithful servant, and that was so much more than enough.

In one world, you rejected your magic, left Camelot, and became a painter. You made a very bad painter, Merlin, and you couldn't stay away when Arthur came in person and begged you to come back. I think that life was otherwise the same as reality, except that Arthur mocked you for it until the end of your days.

There's a dream where a subtle poison claimed your mind, one drop at a time, and I laughed to see you taste nightmares as dark as the ones that had frightened me.

There's one where I caught and bound you, intending to steal your mind and make you kill for me. Instead, you needled me with cruel words until I lost my temper and killed you as you hung helpless.

There's a dream where Arthur never took Gwen back. He married Mithian instead, and she was a good queen. She gave him good counsel, and five daughters who wrapped his tender heart around their fingers as their mother could not. In that world, he was happy. Gwen lived in Ealdor until the end of her days, forging horseshoes and trying to forget.

There's a dream where I never tore the veil. Lancelot lived, and he and Gwen remained friends. It only took a little of my magic to tease Arthur into unfounded jealousy and harshness. He stopped himself from striking her, but neither of them ever forgot the way she shrank away when he raised his hand. It planted the seeds that decades later led to scandal and destruction.

There's a world where Gwen was barren and our son, the king's nephew, took the throne as the first sorcerer-king of Camelot. Handsome, dark-haired Arthur was named for his uncle, and he became a mighty ruler, king and dragonlord and warrior. He was born with your heart and my cunning, your magic and my visions, and he had his namesake's leadership and skill with a blade. In his empire, the golden dragon was a proud ally, not a conquered foe.

There's a world that turned out more pleasant than you'd expect. It's one where Arthur got a child on Gwen while his father was still living. Uther refused to let him marry her, of course, and Arthur would not let his child be born without his name. They ran away together. You turned to me for companionship, and we clung to each other as Uther's tyranny grew worse. When he died, we asked Arthur to come back, to reclaim his throne. He refused. You were heartbroken, and I made you my consort in an effort to shock him into coming back. It didn't work, of course (though I woke laughing from a dream of his face when he heard the news). He became a country landowner, running a farm of sorts, and he was better at it than any of us would have believed possible. Albion was never united, but Camelot survived tolerably enough.

There's a dream where you came to my hovel, bound me to a chair, and bound us both with a spell of honesty. We talked for long days. There was pain, and cruelty, and you begged for my pardon, and, in the end, I agreed to speak to Arthur. He wept into my hair and called me his sister, and we found that we were both sick of war. I promised him that I would stay away from Camelot for five years if he would reconsider his position on magic. I kept my promises, and he kept his. When the time came, he greeted me as "Sorceress Royal" and laughed at the look on my face.

There's a dream where he died in your arms on a battlefield. He called you "little brother" with his last breath, and you hunted me down to seek revenge. After you killed me, you reclaimed your humanity by caring for his wife and children as if they were your own.

There are dozens of dreams where some monster ended your life, or some sorcerer defeated you. So many dangers you could have failed to dodge, Emrys, and I see them all.

There are dozens where Arthur caught you. In some, he burned you, and it broke his heart. In others, he banished you, and you stubbornly returned to save him, over and over until he took you in again. In many, Guinevere looked him in the eyes and refused to let him harm you, and he listened. In one, he already knew, and you looked at him in goggle-eyed wonder when he laughed.

There are so, so many dreams where you died for your king, Merlin. You threw yourself into danger's path, or went to the Isle of the Blessed and traded your breath for his, or bore torture without breaking for the sake of his safety. There is not one dream where you thought twice.

There's a dream where you admired me but never trusted me with your secret. In that world, Arthur married Gwen after a long courtship and a few false starts. Your father died and I killed mine, and you tried so many times to die for Arthur but never quite managed it. In the end, you came to the cave where I sat in an empty room, mad and dreaming. You planned to kill me. I don't remember how it ended. Most of the time, that is the one that I call reality.

Are you here to kill me, Merlin?

There are many, many dreams where you killed me. There was poison, and magic, and a sword, and cruel words to drive me mad, and, once, a cliff and a long, long fall. In some you smiled in bitter delight, and in many you wept, and in some you were expressionless as you took my life. Usually, you begged for my forgiveness, though I very seldom gave it. I know how you look when you kill in self-defense, and how grim you are as an executioner.

It will be interesting to see it in reality, my Emrys, my destiny, my doom. Have my dreams told me true? Will your hands tremble when you take my life?

You are very silent. Are you here at all, or are you yet another dream? Merlin? Speak to me, tell me you're really here. Tell me. I can't remember whether I'm supposed to love you or hate you, but it would be a comfort if you were here.

Why are you weeping?

So...do you have a favorite alternate world? Nearly all of these AUs spring from a sort of half-formed oneshot/drabble bunny in my head. If you want more detail on one of them, drop me a review and it may appear as a later chapter on this story.

If you're curious about my New Year's Project, check my profile for the other pieces, details on fandoms, etc.