Beyond Recall

A/N: Hello again. Well, I've finally plotted out the rest of this story, so I know exactly where I'm going with it, which means that updates might –and I really do mean might- be a little bit more regular. There will be a few more chapters that set everything in place and then the action, intrigue (hopefully) and bromance will begin in earnest!

So, thank you very much for the reviews for the last chapter, and please let me know what you think of this one!

Chapter 12

'What?' Merlin asked indignantly, frowning at Peter as the boy laughed at him.

'So you're telling me,' he began incredulously, 'that not only are you King Tiden's manservant-

'Pretending to be King Tiden's manservant,' Merlin corrected.

'-but you're also manservant to King Arthur?'

'He's got another one at the moment,' Merlin tried weakly.

'But you're actually his manservant; the one they thought died getting thrown over the cliff?'

'How do you know that?'

'Some of Camelot's stable hands were talking to me.'

'About me?'

'Well, about the presumed-dead manservant.' Merlin just stared at him in confusion. 'There was this horse in the stables,' Peter explained with a sigh, 'really lovely horse, seemed to have a great temperament, but she was away from all the others, all the King's horses. They'd run out of room, so they wanted to put some of ours in with her, but they didn't seem too sure.'

'What has that got to do with me?' Merlin asked, feeling like Peter was trying to explain a completely different thing.

'I'm getting to it,' he said, 'you'll love it when you hear it.'

'What?'

'Well I asked about this horse and why she was being kept on her own and they said it was on King Arthur's orders; he wanted her taken out of the royal guard because of poor training.'

'And?' Merlin asked when Peter's eyes widened as if he was waiting for Merlin to catch on.

'Come on, Merlin, think.'

'I think you need to explain to me what you're going on about,' he replied. Peter sighed and shook his head.

'She's your horse,' he said with a grin. 'She's the horse that got spooked by the snake and threw you off. The stable hands told me the whole story. Everyone knows you, Merlin!' he continued with another laugh of disbelief. 'I mean everyone. The stable hands said you were all anyone talked about for days. They lit candles for you and everything. They said the King sent searches out for you, that his knights had to take on some of his duties because he couldn't cope for a while.'

'That's…' Merlin went to say ridiculous, but he swallowed the words back down. He had seen King Arthur's reaction to him in the hall. A swell of guilt went through him as he thought about his conversation with Tiden, but he pushed it back. This was a better path to choose for himself than the one he had been on before.

'It's like you have this aura that says to kings, 'Hire me, hire me!''

Merlin rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the statement. He looked around the room they were in. It was simple and small, but comfortable, and Tiden was paying to keep some of his staff there, so Peter had said he couldn't really complain. He had been housed at an inn close to the stables; in fact the whole place seemed to be filled with stable hands. When Merlin had come to the inn and asked to see Peter, mentioning the fact that he was a stable hand, the innkeeper had just laughed at him.

'Can I see the horse?' Merlin asked after a few moments.

'What now?' Peter asked. 'Haven't you got servant duties to be seeing to?'

'Benjamin's taken over for now. Tiden's given me some time to think.'

'About what?'

Merlin shook his head. He hadn't shared details of his current mission with Peter yet. He wasn't entirely sure that Tiden would want him to know, and anyway, they had decided to postpone his visit to ask King Arthur for his old job for a day or two so as not to rouse any suspicions. Merlin doubted anyone would be suspicious anyway; he had a feeling that everyone was just waiting for it to happen. 'Everything, I suppose,' he shrugged. Peter frowned, but said nothing more.

'Well, I've been given complete access to the stables, so I don't see why we can't go down and see your jittery animal friend.'

It was no more than a five minute walk to get to the stables of Camelot. Merlin headed for the first block of stables he saw, but Peter shook his head and called him round the side of the building. Behind it, there were several stables that had evidently been put up temporarily for the influx of horses that Camelot had expected due to the talks. They walked past nine or ten of them, each –Peter said- housing up to twenty five horses, before they finally stopped at another structure. This one didn't look like it had been put up recently, it had stone walls at the bottom, which were covered in mosses. Merlin realised, as he went in, that it had been a storage barn; there were still telltale signs of barrels and crates stashed in corners, but stable dividers had been built so that it could hold horses.

The animals surveyed the newcomers with a wary indifference at first, but at Peter's voice they showed more interest and turned towards him. Peter walked over to the nearest one, a regal old grey stallion, whom Merlin knew was Peter's favourite.

'Hello boy,' he murmured stroking the horse gently. Merlin smiled as he watched the change that came over Peter. He had seen it several times in the last few days, but he enjoyed seeing it. The boy was usually so abrupt and fidgety, constantly changing topics or muttering on about this, that and the other, but when he was with horses a calmness seemed to come over him. He loved being with them.

Murmuring gently to the animal, Peter fed him a carrot from a supply box by the door and then gave him a few final pats.

'Shall we see your horse then?' Peter asked, turning to Merlin.

'Is he actually my horse?'

'She.'

'Well is she actually my horse?'

'Not exactly, but the stable hands said that she was the one you always rode when you went anywhere with the King.' He walked over to the corner of the stables to a section that was penned off from the rest. A bay mare stood there, very dark in colour with a beautifully brushed black mane. Merlin followed Peter over to her, starring at the majestic creature. Having rarely ridden a horse –from what he could remember- Merlin found it difficult to believe that he had ever found himself riding such a beautiful animal, let alone been thrown over a cliff by her.

'Apparently no-one's been on her since your…'death.' The King wouldn't let them.' Merlin hid his discomfort at the extreme precautions the King had taken against the creature; after all, horses were spooked every day. 'Try talking to her, maybe she'll recognise you.'

Merlin wasn't convinced that she would, but he sighed and stepped forward.

'What's her name?' Merlin asked, but even at the quiet tone, her ears pricked up and she moved her head round.

'See, she knows you.' Merlin smiled to himself. 'She's called Zephyr.'

'Doesn't seem like a battle name,' Merlin frowned, again the mare tilted her head towards him.

'That's because you named her,' Peter grinned.

'The King let me name her?'

'No, apparently you named her that and then she wouldn't answer to anything else. The King was furious with you.'

'How long were you talking to these stable hands?' Merlin asked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the fact that Peter seemed to know more about his missing life than he did.

'That's about all I found out. Now that I know you're the manservant I'm going to be asking plenty more questions.' Merlin gave him a look, which he just laughed at. 'Call her over.'

'Zephyr,' he called gently. 'Come here girl. Zephyr.'

The horse didn't hesitate in trotting over to Merlin. Instantly she nuzzled his outstretched hand and pressed herself against the fence in order to get closer to him. Smiling, Merlin stroked her mane and murmured to her. She looked at him as if understanding every word.

'Do you remember her?'

'No, but I feel a connection to her. I think I used magic,' he whispered, lowering his voice. 'It's why she won't answer to any other name.'

'You enchanted your horse?'

'I must have done.' He looked back at the animal; she was sniffing at his hands, evidently looking for food. Merlin took the carrot that Peter offered and fed it to the gentle creature.

'I think you should ride her.'

'You think stealing a horse from the castle stables is a good idea?'

'Not now,' Peter told him, 'but, I mean, at some point you should. Maybe it would bring back memories of your accident.'

'Perhaps,' he replied absently; his focus had been taken up by the apparent affection of the creature in front of him; she stood there, loyally watching him, as if waiting to see whether Merlin would take her out. 'You're beautiful,' he told her and she flicked her head in response. With a shake of his head, Merlin stepped back, smiling to himself, and then turned his attention to the rest of the stable. It seemed bigger than the ones they had already walked past. 'Are these all our horses?' Merlin asked Peter, who was replacing the lid on the supply box that he'd taken the carrots from.

'Yeah. Well, apart from the one that was borrowed earlier. They're a bit cramped in here, but it's not too bad. There's an exercise yard for them anyway.'

'Someone borrowed one of Cyathia's horses?' Merlin asked, thinking back over the hundreds of horses they'd already walked past.

'One of Steven's sheep,' Peter said, his disdain for the man and anyone connected with him more than evident in his voice. Merlin frowned and followed Peter as he walked out of the barn.

'Well isn't he back yet?'

'I can't see the horse. He took Torrent; he's a fast one, and they didn't half race out of here.'

Merlin stopped at the words; something stirred in his mind, a suspicion of sorts. 'When was this?'

'I don't know,' Peter shrugged. 'Just as everyone was coming out of your reunion in the throne room. Why does it matter?'

'Well, where was he going? There's no reason to leave the city.'

'You think Steven's up to something?' Peter asked, his voice lowering.

'It just seems odd that he'd send one of his men out.'

'I'll tell you what,' Peter said, 'I'll let you know when he gets back and I'll keep my ear to the ground a bit. Steven won't be able to resist boasting about it if he's doing something.'

Merlin nodded his thanks, but said nothing else. Steven had been with the King when the meeting had ended. When would he have gone to speak with his men? Merlin guessed that he had been with Gwaine for about half an hour; perhaps during that time Steven had spoken to his friends, or perhaps his friends weren't acting under Steven's instructions.

Merlin shook his head to clear it; what did it matter? There was no reason for him to get involved or get suspicious, but already it seemed too late to be thinking like that. Some spark of curiosity had lit in him; one that felt familiar, which only served to worry him more.

He tried not to think about it as he said goodnight to Peter and walked back to the castle. He had more important things to focus on; the most important one at the moment being finding out where his room was. One of the knights, a Sir Percival, who apparently was also one of his many friends, had turned up in Tiden's quarters that afternoon saying that the Queen had offered Merlin a room to stay in; the room that he had apparently lived in with the physician, Gaius, who was currently with Merlin's mother in Ealdor.

After the knight had left, Merlin assured Tiden that he would quite happily stay in the servants' quarters that had been assigned to Cyathian staff, but Tiden had been keen for him to take up the Queen's offer, saying that it would help to make his transition back to being Arthur's servant in a day or so, more convincing. On that basis, Merlin had allowed one of Camelot's servants to show him the room and had then promptly headed back out of the castle to find Peter. He only hoped he could remember where the room was now.

As it turned out, his sense of direction was remarkably good and he found the room very quickly; he tried to ignore the whispering voice that told him the journey had seemed almost instinctual and quickly pushed the door to his chambers open. The moment he walked in, he was hit with an almost overwhelming sense of comfort; like a warm fire after a day out in the cold. The room should have made him feel distinctly uncomfortable, what with its array of book piles, scattered about potions and phials and its general disorder -every surface was covered with something- but instead the chaos felt right; as if anything else would have been unusual.

No, the room didn't make him feel uncomfortable, but the Queen and a strange man sitting in the middle of it, did make him feel very uncomfortable. She stood up as he walked in, her expression showing a slight nervousness, but her smile showing only joy.

Merlin staggered to a halt and bowed his head quickly.

'Queen…' he began, but felt his face grow hot as he realised that he couldn't remember her name. What had the King called her earlier?' 'My Lady,' he said instead, but his slip had been obvious. He glanced up to see the look of disappointment disappear from her face to be replaced with a smile that made him feel a fraction more at ease.

'It's alright, Merlin,' she said gently. 'My name's Guinevere.'

'My Lady,' Merlin nodded uncertainly, taking a few more steps into the room, but keeping a respectful distance from her.

'It's Gwen,' she said softly. 'It's short for Guinevere.'

Merlin's eyes went wide. Was she seriously suggesting that he call her by a nickname? 'It doesn't feel quite right addressing the Queen by her name, my Lady,' he replied hastily, silently wishing that he'd stayed away a little longer.

'I was your friend long before I was Queen,' she explained. 'In fact I was a servant with you for many years before I married Arthur.'

'You were a servant?' Merlin asked incredulously, his shock at the information overriding his unease for just a moment. The look on her face was one of amusement, but it was tinted with sadness that Merlin knew was to do with him. He had been friends with the Queen as well as the King? He had worked with her as a servant? Merlin felt another wave of guilt flood him. He hadn't just fooled his way into the knights' company and the King's, but the Queen's as well? He recoiled at the thought of what power of influence he had had over Camelot. He could have orchestrated anything if he really chose to.

'Yes, and your friend also. Which is why you must call me Gwen.'

'I will try to remember that my L- Gwen… my Lady.' He shook his head and looked up at her.

'Give it time.' Merlin just nodded. 'Are you alright?' she asked uncertainly, taking several steps towards him and resting a hand on his arm. Merlin looked at her in shock. 'I'm sorry,' she told him, moving her hand from his arm, but squeezing it gently as she did. 'I shouldn't have just turned up here like this, but I couldn't find you today.'

'I've been doing a lot for the King- I mean for King Tiden, not…' he trailed off, shaking his head.

'It's alright,' she assured him. 'I can imagine this must be so confusing for you, but we want to help: Arthur and I.'

'Really, you don't have to-'

'No, we do,' she told him firmly. 'I know you don't remember anything Merlin, but you must be assured of how much everybody loves you in Camelot; how much we grieved for you and how overjoyed we are that you are alive.' And he believed every word she said; the truth was in the way her face shone as she spoke, the way her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him.

'Thank you, my Lady, but you didn't have to come here to tell me that; you have more important things to be seeing to, I'm sure.'

'You're important, Merlin. We want to help you as much as we can. This,' she continued, moving away from him and back to the other man who had been watching the proceedings carefully, scrutiny in his eyes. '…is Edward. I'm sure Arthur mentioned him to you earlier, so I-'

'King Arthur hasn't come to speak to me,' Merlin interrupted with a frown, before realising what he had done. 'My Lady, I'm sorry,' he blustered, 'I shouldn't have spoken over you.' The Queen frowned at him, but she didn't seem bothered by the interruption. 'My Lady?' Merlin ventured.

'Arthur hasn't spoken to you?'

'No,' Merlin replied, confused himself now at her response. 'I haven't seen him since the meeting this morning.'

The Queen said nothing, and seemed to realise that her silence was making the two other occupants of the room a little nervous. She shook her head slightly and straightened up. 'My apologies; this is Edward; he's standing in as Court Physician while Gaius is with your mother. I've asked him to speak to you about your memory loss to see if we can find a way of reversing it.'

'There's no need,' Merlin told her. 'The physicians in Cyathia had a look at me.'

'Please,' she said, and there was something a little more desperate in her tone, something that Merlin felt himself responding to instantly. He tried not to let himself be drawn in, but one look at her face crumbled his resolve. She didn't look like a queen at that moment, despite all the finery she was dressed in. No, she looked like a friend desperate to feel like she was doing something, anything, to make things better.

'Alright,' Merlin nodded, 'if you think it might help.'

Gwen nodded, her relief evident. 'Thank you.' Both of them looked at him expectantly.

'Right now?' he asked in shock. The look on the Queen's face answered his question.

Arthur had been about to send out a patrol to find Guinevere when she finally reappeared in their chambers.

'There you are,' he said gently. 'I was wondering where you'd got to.' She gave him a small smile and then hung up her cloak.

'I would have thought you'd be too busy to worry about me,' she said, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling a night robe from it, before laying it out on the bed and then returning all her jewellery to the ornamental box on the bedside table. A small slither of warning crept along Arthur's neck.

'Are you alright?' he asked carefully.

'I'm fine,' she nodded. 'Have you been busy today?'

'I've been getting ready for tomorrow,' he frowned, 'but nothing else really. Why?'

'No reason.' She picked up a brush from the table and began combing her hair gently, pulling out a few of the clasps that were holding it in place. Arthur was going to suggest that she call up her maidservant to help her get ready for bed, but he had a feeling that the comment would not go down well. 'I went to see Merlin,' she suddenly said, putting the brush down and turning to face him. The abrupt change in conversation took him a little by surprise, but as soon as he had recovered, his curiosity was roused.

'And how was he?' he asked hesitantly, sorting through the papers on his table so that he didn't have to look at his wife. He had a feeling he knew where the conversation was going.

'I took Edward to see him. He looked at the scars from his injuries and asked about the memory loss.'

'And…?'

Gwen turned and looked at him, accusation evident on her face.

'What?' he asked sharply, feeling his defences rise.

'Why didn't you go and speak to him?' she asked, her tone full of something that sounded annoyingly like disappointment. Arthur felt his expression harden at the question.

'I've been…' he began, before realising that Guinevere had already checked that he hadn't been busy.

'Yes?' she asked, her expression remaining unchanged. Arthur sighed and left the pile of papers where they were, but he could think of no way to respond. 'You said you were going to see him,' she continued, her irritation mixing with a sadness that made Arthur feel guilty.

'No I didn't; you just suggested I should.'

'Then why didn't you?'

Arthur shook his head again and walked over to her; she didn't allow her expression to soften, but he could sense her anger subsiding as he sat on the bed and took her hand, pulling her down until she was sat beside him.

'I…' he began, but he felt ashamed. He shook his head. 'I…I can't,' he whispered. 'I just can't go and speak to him and pretend that…' He tailed off and shrugged before looking back up at Guinevere; she was looking at him with a certain degree of sympathy which he took comfort in.

'Arthur,' she began gently, clasping her other hand over the top of his, 'Merlin needs you.'

'No he doesn't. He doesn't even remember me.'

'Which is why he needs you,' Guinevere argued. 'You need to help him remember.' Arthur shook his head again, looking away from her and studying the floor.

'I can't do it; I just can't.'

'Arthur…'

'No,' he replied, standing up. 'It's been over six weeks since the accident; if he was going to remember anything then he would have done by now.'

'Edward said that memory return can take time.' Arthur was still shaking his head. He refused to let himself listen to the words that his wife was speaking; not because he disagreed with them, but because they were filled with uncertainty; there was no guarantee in anything that she or Edward were saying.

The truth was that Arthur couldn't let himself cling onto the hope that Merlin would regain his memories because it was a hope that offered no assurances. Yes, he could go and see Merlin, he could try and jog his memory; he could recount everything that had happened to the two of them for the past six years. He knew that each time he would invest just a little bit more of himself in the endeavour; he would allow himself to be drawn further into the hope that Merlin would one day remember and be himself once more, and then somewhere down the line that hope would shatter and leave him even more empty than he had felt since Merlin's supposed death.

He felt terrible thinking it, but the truth was that he would rather have endured the grief of loosing Merlin, than the torment of seeing someone who looked like him, sounded like him, was him, and yet had none of the memories or experiences that had made him the Merlin that Arthur knew. It would be a constant reminder of everything he had lost in his friendship with Merlin; he would live in the desperation and longing of trying to recapture a connection that had been severed forever.

'Arthur.' He looked up in surprise when he found Guinevere standing next to him, a hand on his arm. 'If anyone in Camelot can help him to remember, then it's you. He needs you, Arthur. Merlin has never let you down in the past; make sure you don't let him down now. If it was the other way round, what do you think Merlin would be doing?'

The words stayed with Arthur long into the night; sleep eluding him until the early hours of the morning.

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