Beyond Recall

A/N: Thank you so much for your response to the last chapter. It was lovely to receive so many reviews and I'm glad you're enjoying it!

I've decided to post a day early because my school broke up for the holidays today! Yay! So I'm free of children for seventeen whole days, which means plenty of time to write some more of this story and a good excuse to update sooner than expected. This will probably be my last post before Christmas, so Merry Christmas to everyone; hope you have a lovely time in whatever you're doing. Also, enjoy part one of the Merlin finale. I am very excited, and –I'll admit- a little worried!

You're probably going to hate me at the end of this chapter, but please let me know what you think anyway!

Chapter 9

Merlin wished that Peter was a servant rather than a stable hand. Yes, Benjamin was beside him, so there was one friendly face, but he wasn't really a friend in the sense that Merlin could laugh and joke with him. The man took his job very seriously and Merlin suspected that if he made any attempt to converse with him, the servant would just tell him that it was not appropriate at that moment and then go back to standing up straight with his head bowed in submission.

Inwardly, Merlin sighed and decided not to attempt any communication. They were waiting in the courtyard of the castle. Their party was considerably smaller now. Peter, along with the other stable hands –both King Tiden's and King Arthur's- had led the horses away, while the bag carriers had unloaded the supplies to be taken to the appropriate rooms, and the cooks had been led to the kitchens by some of Camelot's staff. A few of the servants had also left to prepare rooms for the nobles, and about a quarter of the royal guard had been taken away by a few of Camelot's knights. Merlin assumed it had something to do with organising security for the king.

That left fewer of them, but it was still quite a large party. Merlin only hoped that the room where the King was meeting them was big enough.

Up ahead, James was talking with Sir Leon and seemingly organising the final entrance into the meeting, which gave Merlin far too much time to think. The familiar feeling that he had experienced on seeing Camelot from a distance had completely faded, but the unsettledness that it had brought upon him wasn't dissipating in the slightest. If anything it was growing stronger. He kept on finding himself looking around, expecting another flash of recognition. He seemed to be both hoping for it and dreading it.

Firmly he shook his head and nervously ran his fingers over the lid of the box that Tiden had given him when they stopped earlier in the day. In it was a gift for King Arthur: an artefact that was steeped in magical history. It was a test of sorts, Tiden had said. Arthur was, apparently, unlikely to realise its connection to magic straightaway, but his researchers would make the link quite quickly. It was the first thing to look out for when it came to determining for certain Arthur Pendragon's stance on magic.

Merlin had argued quite vehemently that he shouldn't be given the responsibility of keeping it safe, but Tiden had only smiled at him and assured him that there was no-one else he would trust more with it. That didn't make Merlin feel any happier.

He ran his fingers over the clasp and resisted the urge to open the box. He already knew what it was; Tiden had shown it to him when he first filled Merlin in on the subtle plan. It was an amulet used by sorcerers in ancient times to store a small amount of magic which could be used in dire situations where just a little extra was needed. It was covered in runes and patterns which helped to lock the magic in place. It was a beautiful item, of that there was no doubt; Merlin had longed to try it on. He could sense the magic that was locked in the metal; magic that had been placed there hundreds of years ago by sorcerers who were long dead. It was truly a generous gift.

Up ahead, Sir Leon and Tiden seemed to have finished their discussion and Merlin felt nervousness flutter through him as he saw the King, his guards and his advisors arrange themselves into a clearer formation. The rest of the group seem to pick up on the readiness without being told and a stir of activity went through the group as soldiers and servants alike lined up and took up their agreed and accepted positions. Merlin shifted his feet and looked over at Benjamin who was standing in the perfect position of a servant: back straight, head bowed, hands clasped in front of him. Merlin followed suit as they began to walk up the steps into Camelot's citadel.

The urge to gaze around the throne room in wonder was overwhelming as Merlin made his way into the huge space. He had been able to glance here and there as they walked along the corridors, taking in the rich tapestries, the beautifully patterned walls and windows, and the way every surface seemed to gleam, but he had a feeling it would be far more obvious in the highly formal setting that he currently found himself.

Instead, he settled for surreptitious glimpses of the room and tried to contain his awe. It was in no way a match for Cyathia's throne room -but then Tiden did have a whole array of magical aesthetics at his disposal- but it was grand, elegant, understated in many ways, yet it spoke of authority and nobility. The red banners of the land were hung proudly around the room, fresh and vibrant: ready for something new.

By the time the Cyathian party entered, King Arthur's representatives were already in place. They were standing on the left hand side of the hall: servants towards the back, with soldiers, knights and then the nobles closest to the front. Merlin tried to take a look at King Arthur, but his view was obscured by the numerous Cyathian soldiers in front of him. Even from his limited vantage point, however, he could see that the King was very young, much younger than Merlin had expected him to be. He had known, of course, that the ruler was around the same age as him, but somehow he had thought he would look older. Next to him, his queen looked equally young. Merlin frowned as he looked at the couple; something about them confused him, though he couldn't tell what. An expectation of understanding flooded his mind, but it wasn't fulfilled, and Merlin found himself brushing off the nagging feeling that he couldn't quite explain as he stared at the King and Queen.

Both of them stood looking every part the strong rulers that anyone would expect of a kingdom such as Camelot. They were side by side, their eyes welcoming their guests with gentle authority. In front of him, the Cyathian nobles and soldiers were being directed into the rows of chairs up ahead. With gentle prompting from Benjamin, Merlin made his way into a row further back, where the rest of the servants had gathered.

The general murmur of voices that had been evident as the party settled itself in the correct places fell to a complete silence as the doors at the back of the room were closed and Tiden took his last few steps towards the throne platform. Merlin looked on as well as he could without standing and craning his neck, but before anything else was said, King Arthur left the throne platform and walked down the steps so that he was on level ground with Tiden. The new position gave Merlin a slightly better view due to the arrangement of people in front of him and the few gaps they left, but his thoughts were occupied with the move the young King had just made. It was an action of humility, an instant gesture of friendship and equality that Arthur was under no obligation to carry out; it was, after all, his kingdom; he was well within his rights to promote his authority. But he hadn't. Merlin realised quickly that the King was determined to see these peace talks through successfully.

'It is an honour to meet you King Tiden of Cyathia,' King Arthur began, his voice strong.

'The honour is all mine, King Arthur. To be called upon by a kingdom as powerful as Camelot is a privilege of which Cyathia could not have dreamed.'

'You are most welcome.'

There was a moment's silence and Merlin watched as Arthur held out his hand to Tiden. It seemed a bold move so early on in their acquaintance –even Tiden hesitated for a moment- but eventually he reached out and clasped Arthur's elbow, while the young king returned the gesture.

'May I introduce Queen Guinevere,' he continued. The Queen stepped forward, taking her husband's raised hand as she moved down the steps.

'A pleasure, my Lady,' Tiden nodded, taking her hand and kissing it. She smiled graciously and then returned to stand beside her husband.

'And this is Sir Leon: head of the knights and a skilled warrior.' Merlin couldn't see Sir Leon step forward, but he heard Tiden greeting the knight again, before complimenting Arthur on the way his men had guided them into the citadel and helped organise their supplies. 'I'm glad that you have not found Camelot's hospitality lacking. We have worked tirelessly to provide a suitable environment for the upcoming talks.'

'I can see,' Tiden nodded. 'We are grateful for your diligence.'

Merlin watched the exchange with a strange fascination. Although there was no outward sign of it, it was clear to Merlin that this first meeting was riddled with under-the-surface interactions. The ease at which the kings spoke belied a tension that seemed to sit underneath the comments. Merlin could almost sense the two of them trying to figure the other out. King Arthur's extension of friendship seemed genuine, but it carried a wariness with it that seemed to be playing out in front of the huge assembly. Words were being chosen carefully, flattery used when necessary, welcome being extended, but not to the extent where it seemed to show any weakness. Not for the first time since leaving Cyathia, Merlin found himself worrying that he was going to inadvertently end up putting himself in the middle of something far beyond his comprehension.

'It is hoped that through our shared experience here in Camelot, we will be able to take steps into a new future; one that our kingdoms can walk into side by side,' Arthur said, his voice strong, passion hiding beneath it. 'As such, the castle is open to you and your people, as is the case for all kingdoms that have gathered here.' Only now did Arthur make his way back onto the throne platform, his wife at his side. 'I would be honoured if you and your chosen councillors would join myself and representatives from our other guests in a meeting at midday tomorrow to begin these talks. It is our hope that by delaying proceedings until then, all parties will be fully rested and refreshed. Regarding your staff: your guards and soldiers will be fully briefed by my knights concerning security for your people, and your servants are free to use whatever kitchen and laundry facilities they need to keep you comfortable during your stay.'

'I must say, Arthur, the generosity of you and your people is to be commended. In fact,' he continued, 'the people of Cyathia would like to show their gratitude by presenting a gift.'

Merlin felt his heart hammer in his chest. He had almost forgotten that he had a part to play in this first exchange. Thankfully he found that the box was still clasped tightly in his hands; hands that had suddenly begun to shake. He took several deep breaths and then, with urgent prompting from Benjamin, moved to the end of his row. As quickly as he could, he went through the instructions that the servant had given him for this moment. Don't walk too fast, don't walk too heavily, and don't lift your head unless specifically spoken to. Up ahead, Tiden was saying something about the value of the gift and its connection to the land's heritage –missing out any references to magic, of course- and so Merlin walked forward as inconspicuously as he could. He lifted his eyes for a moment and saw King Arthur was listening attentively to Tiden's words, every inch the gracious host. He lowered his gaze once more, certain that he was walking in a relatively straight line, and then held his hands up with the box containing the amulet resting on top of them.

He became aware of murmurings to his left as he got within a few metres of the throne platform. After the complete silence that had accompanied the conversation between the kings, it seemed loud and disrespectful, but when it didn't stop, Merlin began to feel nervous, even more nervous than he had done up until this point. What had suddenly stirred the people gathered? The kings didn't appear to have noticed the sudden change; Tiden was still speaking and Arthur was thanking him for the gift, but by the time Merlin knelt on the steps of the throne platform, head down and hands raised up presenting the gift, the noise sounded like a dull roar to him. Perhaps his anxiety was heightening his sense of hearing.

He risked a glance up and took in a scene that made him feel distinctly cold. Arthur was still looking at Tiden, but he was about to make his way over to where Merlin knelt to accept the gift. That in itself didn't bother Merlin, but the looks that were being directed at him from others on the throne platform made him shudder. The Queen was looking at him; not just looking at him, but staring at him, her hand up over her mouth and her eyes wide with tears forming in them. Just behind her, Sir Leon looked equally shocked as he stared at Merlin.

Arthur had taken a step or two towards the centre of the platform, readying himself to receive the present, but his gaze was still on Tiden, nodding in thanks as the King took a step back to allow for the moment of acceptance.

So it was that when the Queen whispered her husband's name in something that sounded like terror, but felt a little more like hope, both the King and Merlin looked at her. She said nothing, just shook her head and began to move a hand away from her mouth before thinking better of it. Her gaze, though, never left Merlin and he began to feel very much like he should run.

He didn't though; he felt rooted to the spot as if somehow everything in the room was anchoring him to this place at this moment. The murmurs of the room faded out, leaving a quietness that seemed to go beyond silence. Merlin looked up at King Arthur, knowing that, as a servant, he should not, but feeling compelled to nonetheless, and waited for the man to turn and look at him.

It didn't take long. The king's head turned and his eyes snapped onto Merlin, evidently not knowing what to expect after seeing his wife's expression.

Merlin, however, knew what to expect, or at least he thought he did. He expected to see a look of indifference cross the monarch's face, a small glimpse to take in the essentials when meeting someone for the first time, before the man took the offered gift and moved back.

It was what he expected.

It wasn't what he got.

The king's face, for the tinniest moment, remained neutral, before a fierce spark of shock, confusion and fright passed through his expression. His eyes locked onto Merlin's, his mouth opened slightly as if a scream was trying to work it's way out his throat and his face paled and paled until he seemed to flicker like a ghost in front of Merlin.

For a few seconds that seemed to last hours, the king took several deep and panicked breaths, before taking a small step forwards, his hand just beginning to stretch towards Merlin and his head moving from side to side in almost imperceptible movements.

'Merlin,' he breathed, his voice no more than a whisper in the vast hall.

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