Beyond Recall

A/N: Back again. Thank you for the reviews. They're so encouraging, and lovely to read. Just a quick note: I've made a slight alteration to chapter 5. I really hate going back and changing things, but kiki1607 made a very good druid related-point. To be honest, it doesn't really affect anything story wise, but thought I'd let you know so that you could go and have a read if you wanted.

Anyway, let me know what you think!

Chapter 7

'What news?' Arthur asked. He looked around the table at the knights and counsellors gathered there. He had finished his general introductions to the meeting of the roundtable and was now keen to hear from his knights what the other kingdoms had had to say in response to his invitations. 'Gwaine?'

'The kingdoms of Gwynedd and Powys were all for it. They've accepted your invitation. They couldn't wait to get started with the talks.'

'Good, I expected as much. We have had positive dealings with them in the past,' Arthur nodded. 'Thank you, Sir Gwaine. Elyan?' he asked.

'I'm afraid the land of Rheged has declined to take part.'

'Did they give reasons?'

'No, my Lord, they didn't even send a written reply for you. I'm sorry.'

'No, Elyan,' Arthur said, shaking his head and hiding his disappointment –it would have been good to have Rheged with them in this venture- 'this union of the land will take many years and suffer many set backs. These are merely the first steps.'

Arthur listened with a mixture of triumph and disappointment as his knights listed off the names of kingdoms that had and hadn't agreed to come along to the peace talks that were due to take place in Camelot next week. He knew that it was a big ask for so many kings and queens to gather in Camelot in such a short time, but he was eager to get things moving. Convincing the five kingdoms to go along with his venture had taken well over a fortnight and although many couldn't believe the speed at which things had been set in motion, it still wasn't quick enough for Arthur.

He knew many were surprised and infuriated by the sudden zeal that had overtaken him concerning the unification of the land, but he could do little to hide it. The passion in him to see this project through was like a fire burning inside.

And time and time again, he wished that Merlin was here to share in it. He knew that Merlin would have been as enthusiastic as him; his friend would have encouraged him at every turn. Arthur still remembered Merlin's face when he had voiced the first tentative words of his plan for Albion. It was that memory that Arthur kept in balance in his head at all times, measuring his need to see Merlin's joy at the idea of the union with his need to keep Merlin's ghost at bay to ensure his emotions remained level.

He had found recently, however, –ever since he'd told Gwaine of his plan- that his grief had slipped into a new, gentler phase of being. It was still there -gathering always at the back of his mind- but his intense focus on the task at hand had allowed it to settle into more of a hollow space inside of him, rather than the raging storm that it had been before. In part, he knew that was because he was so busy, but he was also beginning to realise that the task he had set before himself brought a piece of Merlin with it, an encouragement and vision from his manservant that before had been clouded by grief. In short, -though Arthur didn't want to dwell too much on what this said about his current state of mind- it felt like Merlin was going through this with him. Part of him felt ashamed at the sentimentality in the idea, but another part took great comfort from the sense of Merlin's familiar presence overseeing the proceedings. It wasn't that Arthur believed in ghosts, but he did believe in people's legacies, and this one felt like Merlin's.

'Sir Leon, was your journey successful?' Arthur asked, as Sir Olgan concluded his feedback. Arthur was relatively sure that Leon's answer wouldn't be good. But he opened his eyes wide in surprise as the knight began to nod.

'Actually, Sire, it was. Cyathia will come to the talks. I spoke to King Tiden himself and within the hour he had given a reply.'

'Cyathia?' Gwaine asked. 'Never heard of it.'

'Not many have,' Arthur replied. 'I've never heard of them dealing with anybody.'

'Well, they wish to talk to you,' Leon smiled.

'That is good news. If we can join with Cyathia, then it opens up the eastern borders as well. Well done, Sir Leon.'

The meeting was concluded quickly after the names of those attending the talks were announced. Of the initial ten kingdoms that had been invited, six had agreed to come, although Arthur was quite certain that of those six, very few of them would make the upcoming talks easy. It would be a long and no doubt infuriating process, but the realisation that it was in motion was enough to send a genuine spark of joy through Arthur. He was surprised by it; he had thought it would take longer to get to a point where an emotion such as that one would come so easily.

Arthur remained where he was as the rest of the knights and councillors left the room, until only he and Gwaine were left. The knight gave his cocky smile and put his feet up on the table. Arthur didn't even bother telling him to put them down again. Instead, he returned the smile and leant back on his chair.

'So, you happy that there are a load of pompous, arrogant kings and queens descending on Camelot?' he asked.

'It's a very strong first step.'

'If you say so. All I know is that you're going to have to deck out half the castle to free up enough rooms for all of them. The servants are grumbling, you know.'

'I'm sure that all the monarchs will bring their own servants to look after them,' Arthur told him pointedly.

'Well, as long as you're prepared to deal with an uprising from your staff.'

'I dealt with Merlin all those years,' Arthur told him. 'He was an uprising all on his own.'

'That he was,' Gwaine nodded, 'but a very entertaining one.'

'I can't get used to him not being around,' Arthur admitted, surprising himself at his openness and yet at the same time accepting it. Things had changed between him and Gwaine over the last few weeks; had changed in a way that he would never have though possible with the knight. He and Gwaine were as far apart as two people could possibly be. In fact, the more time he spent with Gwaine, the more he realised that he and Merlin had actually been far more similar than he'd ever guessed. They'd both had a shared history, a shared experience, a shared understanding of what Camelot was and what it could be.

Gwaine, on the other hand, was a complete mystery to Arthur. The man showed such loyalty to his King and to Camelot and yet displayed a completely lack of disrespect for things at other times. He fought with a focus and precision that was astonishing to watch and yet approached life with a blasé attitude which often made him look like he couldn't care less. He was constantly ready with a joke and a cocky grin and yet, of all the knights, it was Gwaine who still wore the haunted look in his eye that Arthur recognised in his own anytime he looked into a mirror. Gwaine was a man of contradictions through and through, and yet since Merlin's death, Arthur had found himself feeling more grounded if the knight was around.

It was ridiculous, he knew. Of all the knights, Gwaine would be the last one anyone would go to in order to feel grounded, and yet Arthur found himself doing just that. It was Merlin, of course, who was binding them together in this way, and, for all Arthur knew, the link would fade as their grief did, but for now, it connected them together.

'Nor me. He used to come and see me all the time, you know.'

'When?'

'Between jobs he was doing for you. Sometimes instead of doing the jobs,' he grinned.

'What did you even talk about?' Arthur asked him incredulously. He had always found the friendship between Merlin and Gwaine odd; they were just so different.

'He mostly complained about you,' he shrugged nonchalantly. 'And then I'd join in and he'd switch to defending you instead.' Arthur fought against the smile that rose up at the words.

'So all you two ever talked about was how useless I was?'

'Don't flatter yourself. You weren't the only topic of conversation.'

'Enlighten me,' he pressed. Gwaine tipped back slightly on his chair and a childish part of Arthur wanted to see the smug smile wiped of the man's face as he toppled onto the floor. After a few seconds, he gave a sigh and answered the question.

'You know Merlin: he never shut up. Talking about Gaius and Gwen, all the other knights, what he saw for the future; his life in Camelot.'

Arthur fixed Gwaine with a sceptical look.

'What?'

'You don't strike me as the sit-around-chatting type,' Arthur told him.

'Neither do you,' he retorted.

'What's that got to do with anything?'

'How many hours did you spend talking to Merlin?'

'Half the time I was telling him to shut up,' Arthur pointed out, but he couldn't quite match Gwaine's sarcasm anymore. He'd realised that his ability to talk about Merlin without having to retreat into himself to escape the emotional onslaught was slowly returning, but he couldn't sustain it for very long.

'But you were still listening,' Gwaine told him. 'You know what he was like, he just drew people in.' Arthur just nodded. 'Well,' the knight continued, standing up and stretching, 'I guess I better go and do knight-like things. You better go and do king-like things: starting with placating all the servants.'

'Or I could delegate that job to you.'

'Love to help, but it's my turn to patrol the town, and what with all your guests on their way, I better make the most of a quiet walk.'

He gave Arthur a nod and then headed out of the room. Arthur looked down and picked up the scroll that lay on the table. On it were the names of all this visiting kingdoms due next week. He smiled to himself, rolled the scroll up and headed out into the castle.

Merlin lay awake again. Sleep had eluded him over the past three nights and he was beginning to wish he'd learnt a spell that could knock him into a dreamless slumber. Here he was, still awake, still tired and still undecided on what he should do tomorrow when the King asked him whether he would be joining them on their trip to Camelot.

Merlin sighed and rolled over. It wasn't that he hadn't given the idea much thought; every free moment he had had been consumed by the decision and yet he still couldn't settle on an answer.

On one hand, he knew that Cyathia and the society that it had created was a brilliant thing; something that needed to be protected, preserved and expanded. The thought of what people could achieve if they worked together with each other and with magic staggered Merlin. There wouldn't be crop shortages, people could be healed of otherwise life threatening diseases, houses could be built with ease, fires put out in seconds. The possibilities were endless if magic was allowed to flourish under the direction of sorcerers who were devoted to using it for the right reasons. As such, Cyathia couldn't be allowed to disappear or be swallowed up by a regime that disregarded and feared magic.

But at what cost should one way of life be preserved? That was the question Merlin was struggling with. Tiden had said that their first plan was to disrupt the unity talks, but what right did they have to destroy a chance for kingdoms to work together for the good of their people and the whole land? It didn't seem to be justified to Merlin, and although he knew it was likely to be the easiest path, he feared that the consequences of following it would reach far into the future and maybe cause rifts and wars that would be devastating.

If Merlin was honest with himself, the approach he felt most comfortable with was trying to talk the King of Camelot round to their way of seeing things. James had brought him information scrolls about Camelot and its society and Merlin had to admit that Uther really had been opposed to magic –he had known that even with his lost memories- but the information they had on his son seemed to be somewhat scant and it certainly didn't seem to paint a tyrannical picture of him, not compared to Uther. It was true, however, that no laws on magic had been changed or revoked, which suggested that Arthur was as against it as his father had been.

But surely he could be swayed. That was the thought that Merlin kept on coming back to. If they could somehow talk to this king or show him their way of life, then he would at least have to consider the idea that magic wasn't so bad.

Yes, it was definitely that option that seemed like the best one to Merlin, and one that he would willingly go along with.

He sighed again and lay on his back, staring up at the cracked ceiling above. Several people had told him to go, although how some of them knew that he'd been invited was beyond him. But more than once in the training rooms, sorcerers had come and asked him about the trip. They were, of course, members of the court, but even so: he was surprised they were taking such an interest in his possible excursion.

Peter, of course, couldn't understand his hesitation, especially since he had been selected as one of the stable hands to accompany the entourage and look after the horses, much to his elation.

'So what if Tiden might be planning to be a little underhanded? I'm going.'

'He's not going to be underhanded,' Merlin argued as he flicked through another one of the books that James had leant him.

'Well he's not exactly going with a view to join Camelot is he,' Peter sighed. 'There's definitely a hidden agenda.'

'It's not a bad agenda though,' Merlin continued. 'It's to try and create a land that accepts magic.'

'Then come with us! Do you think I'm bothered either way? No! But I'm not turning down the offer.'

'You're not going to be asked to disrupt peace talks or sway a king though are you,' Merlin pointed out.

'That's right, rub it in. I have magic and Peter doesn't,' Peter retorted in feigned annoyance.

'You know that's not what I meant, and anyway, you said yourself that your magic is getting stronger.'

'Only when you boost it with yours; that's hardly personal skills.'

Merlin smiled at him and gave a short laugh before turning back to his books.

'Merlin,' Peter sighed after a moment, 'it really is your decision, but when it comes down to it, we've got the chance to go to Camelot: the centre of magical hatred, don't you want to find out why that kingdom is the way it is?'

That had given Merlin a bit more to think on, but he knew that Peter wasn't really looking at the bigger picture.

Another, less welcome piece of advice came from Steven. The man had started showing up much more regularly to places where Merlin was, and he was being far less vocal. Instead, he seemed to have switched to more subversive attacks. He would frequently ask Merlin what he had decided in a tone that held barely concealed disdain. Merlin had tried for an aloof approach when responding, but Steven always gave off an air of someone who knew more than he was letting on and it unnerved Merlin no end.

'I can imagine you're nervous about going back there,' the man told him as he manipulated the metal of a shield with his magic, twisting the armour into unrecognisable shapes and then reforming it like new. He was a powerful magician, that much was obvious, although Merlin rarely saw him use it. Rumour had it that Steven and three of his friends trained privately together in one of the disused training rooms down by the dungeons. Merlin hadn't ventured down there for that reason alone.

'It's not that I'm nervous,' Merlin replied, trying to focus on his own spell, but loosing concentration; the look on Steven's face was enough to make Merlin clench his fists at his side.

'Of course you are. Somebody threw you in a river in Camelot.'

'I don't know what happened.'

'Aren't you worried that you'll go back and they'll try to finish the job? Who knows what you got up to in those missing years.'

'Your concern is touching,' Merlin told him, forcing feigned politeness into his voice, knowing that it would irritate Steven not to get a rise out of him, 'but I think I'll be fine. Camelot is a big place, after all.'

'Still; wouldn't want you to switch allegiances once you get back…home.'

'I won't,' Merlin muttered, but his annoyance was evident and Steven gave a small laugh and walked out of the room, clapping Merlin on the back as he did.

Far from putting Merlin off the trip, it had almost made his decision for him. If Steven didn't really want him to go, then he was going to go just to annoy the man, but the words that had been said did circle Merlin's head for a long time afterwards, making his chosen path just as unfocussed as it had been before.

He closed his eyes and tried to envision the departure the following day. He imagined Tiden and the entourage setting off in the dawn light, imagined watching them heading towards Camelot, imagined himself spending the next few weeks wondering how things were going with the talks; wondering if they would be different if he was there.

He smiled to himself; he should have known what his decision would be all along. His mother had always told him that he was too inquisitive for his own good. There was no way he was going to let the chance to visit a famous kingdom slip past him, especially if the goal of the visit was to widen the acceptance of magic to the whole land. After all, he told himself, it wasn't going that bothered him; it was what would happen when they got there, but he would be much more able to control the outcome if he was there as well.

And deep down, much deeper down, there was a thought inside him that maybe he would discover more about his missing years; not in the terrible way that Steven had suggested, but in a good way, a way that would help him to understand how he had become this new version of himself. After all, the chances were that he had lived in Camelot. Perhaps, by some lucky coincidence, there would be someone there who recognised him; who could tell him who he was and what his life had been. As much as he feared the answer, he feared the uncertainty more. His initial hesitations about wanting to find out about his past seemed to be disappearing now that the opportunity to find them was actually there.

The truth was that there was no other way he was going to be able to find out about the six missing years. Soon after he had arrived in Cyathia, he had asked James about using magic to restore memories, but the man had been uneasy at the idea. A talk with the Court Physician had helped Merlin understand why. The man, an elderly gentleman with thinning hair and a full moustache and beard, had explained that spells that affected the mind and memory were notoriously difficult to perform and highly unreliable in their results. He had given Merlin some horror stories of spells gone wrong: people ending up loosing all their memories or inadvertently being given false ones. The man had sighed and offered to try, but the look on his face told Merlin that it wasn't really a risk the physician wanted to take. When Merlin declined the offer, the man had breathed a sigh of relief. The mind, he had said, was just too complex.

As time passed and the memories didn't return on their own -as the physician had said they might- Merlin accepted the fact that he would never know what his recent years had been. He had almost felt relief at the idea; for one thing, it made his new start in Cyathia much easier. He had come to a place in himself where he didn't really want the memories to return, but now he found his resolve slipping. Whatever those years held, they were part of who he was. Could he ever really make a new life in Cyathia if he didn't understand where he had come from?

He awoke early to the sound of movement in the corridors outside, but this movement was different from his usual wake up call. This was things being carried and dragged, people rushing back and forth. This was preparation for the upcoming departure.

Hurriedly, Merlin washed and dressed and made his way to James' chambers. The man looked like he'd been up and about for hours. He was dressed in well worn, but handsome travelling clothes and decked out with full Cyathian emblems. He gave Merlin a nod as he came in.

'You're coming then?'

'Yes,' Merlin nodded.

'Do you think Tiden will let me come, even after my…hesitations?' Merlin asked quietly. James gave him a knowing smile, something that he did so rarely that it took Merlin by surprise. 'What is it?'

'You still don't realise how valuable you are,' the man said, almost to himself. Merlin said nothing, just frowned at the man in front of him. 'The King wanted you there, hesitations or not. He knows that your heart is for Cyathia's message and belief.'

'It is,' he nodded quickly.

'Then, take these,' he replied, holding out a beautifully woven cloak and a bag that was full of some sort of fabric.

'What are they?'

'Servant's clothes. Tiden wants you in his personal entourage and you'd be less conspicuous as a servant.'

Merlin tried to ignore the unease he felt when he considered why he needed to be inconspicuous and took the offered bag. He pushed aside his worries; no-one could make him do something he didn't want to. He smiled at James.

'So I'm going to Camelot?' he asked.

'Yes, Merlin; you're going to Camelot.'

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