Beyond Recall

A/N: Hello one and all. Hope you've had good weeks. Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. I have to say, I am getting very excited about the series finale for Merlin, but I also have a very bad feeling about it. Can't wait to see what happens.

Anyway, on with this chapter. Please let me know what you think.

Travelling to Camelot took a long time. Merlin had known it would, of course. The journey back with Steven and James, although they had been going slowly because of Merlin's injuries, had still taken several days and this one looked set to take just as long, if not longer. It was the sheer volume of people going that was causing the slow progress. The King, with several advisors, generally led the procession, surrounded on all sides by the royal guard, at least two dozen of them, with another two dozen spread out down the line to protect everyone else from attack. Behind the nobility were a variety of other people. There were six stable hands altogether, which Peter had complained profusely about, saying that it wasn't enough to look after the thirty or so horses they had with them, there were also around twenty servants, four cooks and ten bag carriers who were in charge of making sure that all the belongings of the group, as well as the tents that were being used by the nobles during the nights, remained safe and secure. In all, there were nearly one hundred people and, therefore, moving through rocky terrain, wild forests and open plains took far longer than it would have done had it been a small party on horseback.

Generally, Merlin slotted himself at the back of the servants, so that he could chat to Peter as they walked; the stable hands tended to bring up the rear as they were leading the spare horses that had been swapped to give them a break. As such, he got to know some of the other stable hands -whom he had heard mentioned, but had never actually spoken to- as well as a number of the servants.

Most of his conversations with them were about what being a servant actually entailed. After all, if he was posing as one, it wouldn't hurt to be able to convince others that he really was one. They were all keen to offer advice and Merlin found himself changing his speech so that it was acceptable when talking to nobility and practicing folding clothes and serving food whenever they stopped for a rest. It didn't take long for news of his new hobbies to reach the front of the entourage and he found himself being summoned by the King at the end of the second day's travel when they all stopped for food.

'I hear you are playing your part well, Merlin,' Tiden said as he sat at a makeshift table eating his dinner. Nearby, several of the King's advisers were watching, James and Steven in amongst them. The former looked at Merlin with something akin to fond amusement, while the latter looked on with a sneer on his face. Merlin ignored him.

'I feared that I would not be able to play the part of a servant very well without the practice.'

'Well let me propose something.'

'Of course, Sire.'

'While in Camelot, you can be my personal servant. That way it will be easy for you follow the proceedings and be informed of all decisions.' Merlin stared at the King wide-eyed. He knew, of course, that the nobles tended to have their own servants. Even now, several of the other servants were also at the front of the entourage serving their respective masters.

'I'm very honoured, my Lord, but I fear that I would be sadly lacking as a manservant.'

'I have another, of course,' the King continued, nodding at a man that Merlin knew as Benjamin. The servant looked up and gave Merlin a smile of recognition. 'Not all the duties would fall to you -Benjamin is quite capable- but this way you will be permitted to enter all meetings without question.'

'If that is what you wish, Sire.'

'It is. It was suggested that you play the part of a noble of Cyathia, but James informs me that you would be even less comfortable with that.'

'I would, Sire,' Merlin nodded with a smile. 'I fear that I would be even more lacking as a noble than I would as a servant.'

'It is settled then.'

And so it was. Merlin found himself shadowing Benjamin for several hours a day and, on occasion, taking over from him to try and ensure that he was easily passable as a servant.

'How is it,' Peter asked him later that night as they lay by the horses, keeping watch over them, 'that you can turn up in a kingdom, find favour with the King and then end up his manservant?' A few feet away, the horses shuffled about for a moment before settling once again.

'It's not like I'm really his servant,' Merlin pointed out. 'It's all an act.'

'Well, he's making you clean his clothes isn't he? Seems genuine to me. I just don't know how you've managed it.'

'It's nothing to do with me though, really, is it,' he mused.

'What do you mean?'

'It's about what I can do. It's about my magic. Otherwise none of this would have happened. I don't even know if James and Steven would have taken me with them after they pulled me out of the river if I hadn't had magic.'

'I suppose,' Peter whispered. They fell silent for several moments. It was a cool evening and Merlin found himself pulling his blanket more tightly around himself as a brisk breeze swept past them causing the leaves all around to shiver.

'I don't like Steven,' Peter said eventually.

'Really?' Merlin asked, pouring confusion into his voice. 'I've always found him so charming.' Peter sniggered.

'He always turns up in places.'

'It was annoying when he kept coming into the training rooms, but they are open to everyone.'

'Not just the training rooms,' Peter told him, 'he came to the stables the other day; started asking me about you.'

'What?' Merlin asked, more loudly than he had intended to. He lowered his voice. 'He was asking you about me?'

'Yeah. Did I know where you were? Why was I bothering to follow you round? Which I don't do, by the way. Did I know if you were going to Camelot?'

'Why was he asking?'

Peter shrugged and rolled onto his side. 'I don't know. To be honest I wasn't very helpful. I think he's got it in for you, you know.'

'Probably, but I don't understand why.'

'It's obvious,' Peter told him. 'You do know that Steven was basically the most powerful sorcerer before you floated down river.'

'James says that there are others who are stronger.'

'Not many, and those that are aren't in the city; they're spread out over the kingdom. They tend to study magic and new spells rather than using their power for anything else.' He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. 'He's just jealous. Up until now, no-one could challenge him on a magical level –believe me, I would have done if I could- and now you're here and he's not the most impressive sorcerer anymore.'

Merlin frowned at the sky, wondering what he had done to make Steven believe he was a threat. He had done nothing other than try to avoid the man.

'You know,' Peter mused, 'if you get chance, I really think you should use your magic to turn him into a slug.'

'I don't know if that would solve the problem.'

'It would once I stood on him.'

Merlin laughed at the comment and shook his head, whispering a goodnight to Peter and then rolling onto his side. But he found it hard to sleep; Steven's behaviour was beginning to bother him and he wasn't sure what he could do to put things right. He'd talk to James about it when he got chance. Even so, as he fell asleep, he found himself wondering what words would create a spell to turn someone into a slug.

Throughout the rest of the journey, Merlin's servant training continued. It came to him much more naturally than he had expected. Things like mending clothes and cleaning had never worried him –he had done plenty of it in Ealdor- but what surprised him was the speed at which he picked up the more complex tasks; things like dressing the King in his armour. There were so many clasps and catches to remember, and yet Merlin found that he only needed to see them once and he remembered exactly what to do. Saddling and tending to the horses was another thing that seemed to come as second nature, despite the fact that he'd barely ridden a horse in his life. Peter, of course, had given him plenty of advice on that front, but Merlin found that it only seemed to confirm what he had expected he needed to do.

So it was, that by the time they were only half a day away from Camelot, Merlin was feeling quite confident. As long as he continued using the skills he had very quickly learnt, and kept himself all but invisible -as a servant should be- he saw no reason why anyone would think he was anything other than an experienced manservant. He was fairly certain that he would blend right in.

They were still a few hours away from Camelot when King Tiden called a stop to their journey to give everyone time to prepare for their entrance into Camelot. Since Cyathia had never had dealings with any other land, the King seemed determined to ensure that the first impression was a good one. They stopped beside a river, giving everyone chance to wash and then change into their ceremonial garments.

Merlin hid his discomfort as he changed into the ceremonial clothes of a Cyathian servant. He looked longingly down at his discarded jacket, breeches and shirt, along with his neckerchief, and then reluctantly gathered them up and stored them in his bag.

To make things worse, Peter barely managed to contain his laughter when Merlin re-emerged in the camp.

'It's not that bad,' he said through gritted teeth.

'Mine's better.'

Merlin wanted to argue, but it was hard to disagree. Peter was dressed in dark brown breeches and leather shoes. The tunic that he wore over the top was mostly the same dark brown as the trousers, but had the Cyathian crest –an eagle trimmed with gold, sitting on the branch of a tree, the leaves framing its profile in greens of every shade- intricately stitched over his heart.

Merlin, on the other hand, found himself in forest green breeches and a dark brown, long sleeved shirt. Those in themselves weren't too bad, but over the top he was wearing a green tunic that was entirely covered by the Cyathian logo and had the most stupid shoulder pads he'd ever seen. They tapered into points and were decorated with golden buttons. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had been given boots that reached up to his knees and had golden laces, and a cap that sat tightly on his head and was rimmed with a braid of gold and green.

'Yes it is,' Merlin agreed with a sigh.

'Well, at least all the other servants look equally stu… unusual,' Peter grinned.

'Thanks.'

'And look at it this way,' Peter continued, 'those clothes are probably worth a lot of money, so after you've finished pretending to be a servant, you can sell them and buy yourself new clothes.'

'I think James might want them back.'

'He doesn't need them,' Peter shrugged.

As soon as the other servants emerged wearing the same clothes, Merlin felt his self-consciousness dissipate slightly; at least they'd all look like idiots together. Although, he couldn't help but admit that the procession looked impressive as they continued on. The royal guard, while wearing roughly what they had been before, had donned a few extra embellishments and the King and his advisors exuded authority and nobility in their garments. The Cyathian standards were also raised as they got closer, and Merlin began to get a feeling of the significance of what they were doing in coming to Camelot after centuries of being hidden away from all.

When they were a couple of hours away, they were met by an envoy of the King who was there to guide them the rest of the way into Camelot. By that point, Merlin had joined the other servants of the nobility towards the front of the procession. They were lined up behind the nobility and a row of the royal guard, and as such could hear what was being said.

Merlin kept his head slightly bowed as Benjamin had told him he should do, but couldn't resist glancing up and shuffling slightly so that he could see between two of the guards and observe the knight of Camelot that had come to meet them. The man was on horseback and dressed in full armour. Around his shoulder was a bright red cape, which fluttered slightly in the breeze.

'Sir Leon, I believe,' Tiden said, his voice strong and clear.

'Yes, Sire,' the knight replied with a respectful bow of his head. His voice had a gentle restraint in it and the man himself seemed to hold himself with a quiet confidence which spoke entirely of humility. 'On behalf of King Arthur, may I welcome you to Camelot. It is our great honour to have you here.'

'The honour is mine. Camelot's reputation precedes her.'

'The King has sent me to guide you into the citadel and then to the great hall to meet with him.'

'And what of my people?' he asked, glancing back.

'They are more than welcome in the great hall.'

'Very well. Lead on Sir Leon.' The knight gave another bow and then turned his horse around and continued on.

Their progress towards Camelot was slow, as if to heighten the sense of gravity in the current exchange. Merlin felt himself becoming more and more nervous and excited as they drew closer, and, as they came to the end of the forest, he held his breath for his first glimpse of the city.

The King passed the tree line first, but with guards on horse back blocking Merlin's view, he was forced to wait a little longer to see the city up ahead. It was the blue sky that he saw first when he finally moved from the shadow of the forest into the sunlight of the day, but slowly the guards moved aside and Merlin saw the city of Camelot.

A thrill of shock snapped through him as he did and he found that his feet wouldn't move. Beside him, Benjamin gave him a questioning stare, but Merlin only glimpsed it from the corner of his eye; his gaze was fixed, instead, on the white city that lay ahead of him. The faintest slither of recognition had jolted through him as he saw it, but it was fast fading, like a dream that was impossible to recall once it had slipped from a person's mind. He tried to cling on to it -it was the first time he had experienced anything that felt like familiarity in over a month- but it was like the sudden flash of a bright star in the night sky, which was quickly covered by clouds.

'Merlin?' Benjamin asked. 'Are you alright?'

'I'm…' he began, his eyes creasing in confusion, but when he looked back at the city, the feeling of recognition was gone. 'I'm fine,' he nodded. 'Really, I am,' he repeated when Benjamin looked unconvinced. Merlin took a few halting steps forward and then found his rhythm again.

They drew closer to the city, but Merlin's initial feelings of excitement and nervousness had gone, to be replaced by a trepidation that he didn't understand and yet couldn't deny.

'Arthur,' Gwaine called, from the door of the great hall. 'Leon's coming with the Cyathians. There are loads of them.'

Arthur nodded from where he stood at the end of the room. 'Thank you Gwaine. Could you please gather the other knights? Percival,' the man stepped forward, 'please call the Lords and Ladies and Council members to the hall.' The man nodded and disappeared out of a side door.

Pacing across the throne platform, Arthur quickly checked that everything was in order in the hall. The banners of Camelot hung from the walls, freshly cleaned and mended. The floor shone as if it had been layered with diamonds and every window allowed for a crisp view of the outside world.

'Arthur.' He felt Guinevere slip her hand into his and pull him round to face her. She smiled up at him and he let out a breath he had been holding. 'You have done brilliantly so far. All the other kingdoms have commented on your welcome and hospitality. Why should Cyathia be any different?'

'I know,' he nodded, a small smile creeping across his face. 'They are just such an unknown in these talks.'

'You are making them known. It is a noble thing,' she told him, reaching up to kiss him gently on the lips. Arthur allowed himself to focus fully on the warmth of her lips and the way his heart quickened at her touch, the cares of the day fading slightly. But after a few seconds he pulled back, pulling up her hands so that he could kiss both of them.

'I could not do this without you,' he told her.

'I know that you could,' she smiled, 'but I'm glad to be with you for it anyway.'

He smiled at her and then allowed her to straighten up his clothes until they were perfectly arranged. A good impression was the most important first step.

He had to admit, though, that so far the event was going very well. Nothing had been discussed or negotiated yet; it would be foolish to start the proceedings before all the kingdoms had arrived, but the welcoming and meeting of the kings and their people had gone remarkably well.

Cyathia being the last party to arrive, the castle was already thriving with activity. Nearly every room in the castle was full –something that had never happened in all the time Arthur could remember- and the halls constantly rang with the sound of footsteps. Arthur had to hand it to his staff; they had done a remarkable job at getting the castle ready for the huge influx of guests. His head of staff had, at first, looked at him in horror when he outlined the numbers they were expecting, but the man had soon regained his composure and set to organising people.

In the end, they had had to hire well over two hundred people from the town to clean the castle completely from top to bottom, but somehow the inclusion of the townsfolk had given the whole thing a much more unified feel across the citadel. People understood the importance of the talks and also seemed to welcome them. There were, of course, those that had voiced their rejection of the plans to the knights as they patrolled, but overall the people seemed to be standing with Arthur.

That much was evident in how they were sorting out the town. The streets had been swept, though Arthur had asked for no such measures, and inns had agreed to save their rooms for the visiting staff and servants of the represented kingdoms. Many would have lodgings in the castle, but Arthur had been told quite firmly that there was no way they could fit all the extra servants and cooks in the castle. They were barely managing to fit the dignitaries as it was. On top of that, farmers had brought in extra produce during market day at the request of Arthur's kitchen staff.

Yes, there was no doubt about it; the whole of Camelot was on board with the idea that Arthur had first considered over a month ago talking to Merlin. It had grown into something monumental much more quickly than Arthur ever would have expected, and he still felt small spikes of grief stab at him as he considered the fact that Merlin was not here to share in it. The regret that he wasn't had pulled Arthur down more than once during the past week as he met and welcomed so many foreign visitors, but Guinevere had managed to pull him out of it, and had reminded him that this was still Merlin's dream, whether he was here to share it or not.

He still remembered telling her the reason behind his sudden desire for the peace talks. She had asked him several times, but he had put off answering until he knew that things were in motion. And then, one evening, he had sat down with her and told her about his conversation with Merlin, the things that Gwaine had said and the reason why he was so desperately seeking these peace talks. She had looked at him and kissed him, before smiling at him through gentle tears.

The sound of the doors opening drew Arthur back to the task at hand and he nodded at Guinevere. She took her place on her throne and Arthur quickly moved to sit beside her, his back straight, his eyes firm and his expression strong. He watched as his knights and council members filed in, filling the sections of the hall that had been allocated for Camelot's citizens. They had done it so many times in the past few days that it took no time at all, and they stood waiting for several minutes for the new arrivals to reach the great hall.

At a nod from Gwaine at the back of the hall, Arthur stood up, Guinevere next to him, while the rest of those gathered followed suit. The Cyathians had handed over their horses to the stable hands, no doubt along with a few stable hands of their own, and had decided which people in their party would represent the kingdom in the first meeting.

From outside the hall, a short burst of trumpet song sounded. Arthur took a deep breath, nodded to himself and waited for the King of Cyathia and his followers to make their way into the hall to begin what would hopefully be a smooth and uneventful meeting.

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