Beyond Recall

A/N: As cautiously promised, I have updated a little earlier than usual. Thank you very much for the reviews. As always, they are a huge encouragement. Keep them coming! This is sort of the chapter where the next part of the story really kicks off, so I hope you enjoy it. It also happens to be quite long.

I'll try and keep up the more regular updates, but it'll depend entirely on work. I'll do my very best.

Anyway, here you go!

Chapter 13

Merlin would never have thought that being manservant to the King would be so boring. It was the second day of their visit to Camelot and he had been standing in the Council chambers for what felt like –and probably was- hours. His arm was aching mercilessly from holding the water jug that he was using to top up King Tiden's goblet. Benjamin had seemed a little put out when Tiden had said that Merlin would be attending him during the initial meeting of the Kings and Queens, but Merlin wouldn't have liked anything better at that moment than to walk out and hand the water jug over to the other servant.

Of course, he knew why he was here; Tiden had told him quite clearly. It was his job to watch the reactions of the other monarchs in the room to try and ascertain how keen they were for these peace talks to continue. His task would be extended to include the man and maidservants later on -trying to get information from them on their employers' opinions on the union- but for now he was to be a subtle observer of the royals gathered.

It had seemed quite important at first, as if he actually had some way of being involved in securing Cyathia's safety, but it soon became very apparent who was for and against the talks and who was wholly undecided; Merlin doubted very much that Tiden, James or Steven –who were both in the meeting as the King's counsel- would need his expertise on the matter. He did keep more of an eye on the undecided monarchs, trying to ascertain which way they were being swayed, but past that he found himself getting more and more bored.

So it was that his focus began to drift away from the talks and onto the young King Arthur who he apparently knew so well. Merlin had gone into the meeting of the opinion that Arthur was most definitely a noble King -he had thought that at the welcome meeting when he had spoken so strongly and so warmly to his Cyathian guests- but as Merlin watched this meeting, he became more and more aware of the wisdom in the young ruler. It was by no means fully developed, but it was more than evident that he had thought very carefully about how different kingdoms might view the talks and how they would react. Everything he said was crafted to set them at ease and reassure them. No-one felt threatened in this meeting, not by Camelot anyway, some of the other kingdoms were much more forceful in their views, but even then, the King was able to diffuse potentially volatile situations with carefully chosen words.

The more Merlin watched him, the more he found himself admiring this King who he had been plotting against for six years and it again brought about feelings of self-loathing in him. He pushed them down. He would not be that person now; the plot that he was currently a part of would not be a destructive one. It would bring separation, yes, but it would also bring peace and security to Cyathia.

In his observations of the King, however, Merlin soon noticed that the focus wasn't entirely one sided. Though the man tried to hide it, he frequently glanced over at his former servant, although he often didn't seem to realise what he was doing until he caught Merlin's eye. Then suddenly he would look away and shuffle uncomfortably as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. Merlin wasn't sure what to make of it. Either way, he was beginning to feel as uncomfortable as the King looked.

A raised hand from Tiden caught Merlin's attention and he walked over to the table in order to refill his King's cup.

Although Arthur didn't watch as Merlin filled King Tiden's goblet for what had to be the tenth time, he was aware of every movement that his manservant –former manservant- made. Matters were not helped by the fact that Merlin was dressed in his usual attire. Whether they were the same clothes that he had been wearing on the day of the accident, or whether he had simply retrieved his clothes from Gaius' chambers, Arthur wasn't sure, but it was so achingly familiar to him that he was struggling to keep the emotional distance that he had tried to build up over the past day. It was like his brain couldn't allow a single action that Merlin took to go unnoticed, at least in some small measure.

And it was driving Arthur mad. Not least because he needed to concentrate on these talks. Currently, King Chalere of Elnet was voicing some not so subtle suggestions that Camelot's main aim behind these talks was to ensure power over the whole of the land, and yet Arthur's attention was only half focussed on the insinuations that Chalere was making.

The rest of his attention was on Merlin filling up King Tiden's goblet, his shoulders hunched slightly as they always were and his body leaning into the task like the jug was somehow an extension of him. His head was down and he fulfilled the task with the utmost care, far more care than he had been want to take when he had filled Arthur's cup during long meetings. On more than one occasion, Merlin had knocked over Arthur's goblet, and he wasn't entirely sure that it had always been an accident.

Arthur watched Merlin now, watched how he listened more intently to the conversation while trying to act like he wasn't; Arthur could see it in the way his eyes gazed down at the ground as if he was trying to see behind himself.

Arthur couldn't help but consider his current manservant standing behind him. Apart from when the boy had filled his goblet at the start of the meeting, Arthur had yet to ask him for anything else. Suddenly, he had an irrational urge to call Merlin over and ask him to refill his goblet instead. He could swap his servant with Merlin for a few minutes. Realising how utterly ridiculous his thoughts were becoming, he shook his head.

'Do you dismiss my concerns so flippantly?' Chalere asked, his eyes narrowing and his voice turning brittle. Beside the man, his queen also cast an accusing glare at Arthur.

'My apologies, King Chalere,' Arthur began haltingly, nodding his apology at the King and Queen. He cursed himself for getting distracted while, at the same time, trying to ignore the way Merlin's head had snapped up from where he was so diligently performing his duties. 'I did not mean to be impertinent, but let me assure you that Camelot's motives are entirely honourable. These talks are a means to creating a unity across the land that will ensure security for all.'

'You expect us to believe that a kingdom as powerful as Camelot would share power with others? Your history is not steeped in peacemaking.'

'No,' Arthur nodded, inwardly taking a very deep breath. 'But I intend to make sure that our future is entirely built on that ideal. Where power is concerned, Camelot is not trying to seek it for herself. In this kingdom, we have seen the corruption of power and its devastating consequences. I, along with all my council, have no desire to rule over this land as a single authority. We wish to create an interlocking body of authorities, each with their own individual identity, but also sharing a united purpose and connection. These talks are not about the distribution of power, but the pursuit of a lasting and strengthening alliance.'

Arthur looked at each of the kings and queens in turn as he spoke, trying to convey to them the sincerity in his words. Looking around, it was easy to see who was swayed and who was remaining cautious or hostile. He felt Guinevere's hand on his under the table, while Leon sat on his left, stoic in his silent support of the King. Both of them gave him the courage to simply wait for the responses of the rulers around him.

'We trust your words Arthur,' King Gethin of Powys said, inclining his head respectfully. 'Throughout your family's reign you have shown yourself to be a trustworthy friend and ally.' Arthur nodded his head in thanks. He had expected the support of Powys; their two kingdoms had had several friendly interactions over the years. Gwynedd's Queen, Iola, was next to speak, but while her support was clear, her reservations were also plain. Her kingdom was far off and relatively small. Until a bigger alliance had been preserved, it would be hard to ask her to join her kingdom's loyalties to those of Camelot. Arthur had expected as much; there were no surprises there. It was the other kingdoms that were more of an enigma. King Chalere had already expressed his concerns quite vocally, but the other monarchs were harder to read. King Brayden of the wealthy kingdom of Deira said very little, but the way the man seemed to listen to Chalere convinced Arthur that he wouldn't be so easily won over as the kingdom of Powys.

Cambia and her King, Nyle, were even more of a mystery. The man said little in support of either Arthur or Chalere, making Arthur wonder why the King had chosen to come to the talks in the first place. And King Tiden had barely said anything. With Cyathia being such an insular kingdom anyway, it was almost impossible for Arthur to guess how Tiden felt. He distantly wondered whether Merlin knew the King's thoughts, but dismissed the idea quickly. He had only been in that kingdom for a few weeks; no where near enough time to be in the King's confidence.

The conversation between the monarchs continued for some time and Arthur allowed it to; he needed to listen to what they were saying and find a common ground to start on, but as the discussion continued, he became more and more overwhelmed by the difficulty of the task. A feeling which was not eased when King Nyle and King Chalere began trading barely concealed insults with each other. Arthur rolled his eyes and instinctively looked over to Merlin who, so many times in the past, had shared an amused smirk with Arthur when somebody started acting like an arrogant fool in a meeting.

It was several seconds before he realised what he was doing, several seconds where he looked at Merlin and waited for some sort of response from him. All he got was a frown of confusion, before the man seemed to get uncomfortable at the attention the King of Camelot was giving him. He bowed his head in a show of respect and then moved back.

Arthur pulled himself up sharp, once again cursing his stupidity. What was wrong with him? He knew that Merlin didn't remember him; the fact haunted him every minute of every day, but still his mind kept on trying to trick him into forgetting. He looked away, his heart suddenly pounding and his face growing warm. He had to get control of his emotions. And of these talks for that matter.

Clearing his throat, Arthur stood up. The motion instantly got the attention of all those gathered and Nyle and Chalere ceased their pointless argument about past hurts that the kingdoms had endured. Arthur's research had mentioned that the two kingdoms had had conflicts in the past. Perhaps that was where King Nyle's reluctant silence stemmed from.

'It is good to discuss our hesitancies and hopes, but we must maintain our respect for one another. Nothing can be built if there is no respect on which to lay our foundations.'

'And what of trust?' Chalere asked pointedly. 'You expect to build a union without it?'

'Of course not,' Arthur replied calmly, though his hands were clenched into fists just below the rim of the table; he felt Guinevere's hand slowly unfold one of his and drew calmness from her gentle action. 'But trust must be earned, and that can not be an instant thing. It must be created in its own time. It may be that we need to place our hope in one another before we place our trust. I am willing to do that in order to build a safer land for the generations to come. I ask you to speak gently but truthfully now, in order to bring that dream to fruition.'

It seemed to work. Before long the rulers were engaged in a respectful, if not-quite-friendly conversation which began to address the issues and difficulties that would have to be faced in order for all kingdoms to feel happy in a new union. It went on for a very long time and even Arthur, who was thrilled at the more positive turn of events, began to feel tired. He was about to open his mouth to draw the discussion to a close when he caught sight of Merlin once again. Arthur was hard pressed to suppress a smile as he saw the young man try and fail to stop himself from yawning. It felt so familiar that Arthur almost forgot again. How often had he glared at Merlin in a meeting for yawing or, alternatively, nodded in agreement as nobles, lords and ladies went on and on about inconsequential things? It had been a shared understanding between them, an acknowledgement that they were both bored and wishing to be elsewhere.

And then Merlin looked at him, his face colouring with embarrassment at having been caught, and his body snapping back to the official pose of a waiting-servant. Arthur felt all familiarity drain away; leaving him staring sadly at the servant who at times seemed so like Merlin and at others seemed to bear no resemblance whatsoever to the man Arthur had known.

'Hey, manservant to two Kings!'

Merlin rolled his eyes at Peter's shout across the courtyard. He turned to see the boy running over to him.

'Will you stop saying that,' he muttered in a hushed tone, only to be met by Peter's grinning face.

'I found out plenty more about you today, do you want to hear?'

'I don't know, do I?' Merlin asked as Peter fell into step beside him. He was heading back to his chambers having finally finished meeting with the King, Steven and James to discuss his views of the other kingdoms represented. Tiden had asked him to meet with the other servants at the evening meal and try to ascertain their thoughts on their masters' and mistresses' views, but until then, he was free to spend his time as he wanted. His plan had been to go back and explore his old chambers and look for clues as to what he had been doing in Camelot all these years; a plan that seemed even more important after having to go through a whole meeting with King Arthur keeping an eye on him.

'Some of it is very interesting,' Peter nodded. 'Did you know, you once drank poison for King Arthur and then he set off on a quest to save you? Only he wasn't King then and his father actually forbade him from going. And he did it anyway,' Peter finished incredulously.

'I'm sure it wasn't that dramatic,' Merlin replied, nodding towards a doorway that would lead to his chambers to stop Peter from wandering off down the wrong corridor.

'Trust me, the servants say it was. And they say you literally went everywhere with Arthur; I mean everywhere. He took you on quests, into battles, hunting. You even go on picnics with the King and Queen.'

Merlin absorbed the information warily; obviously he had been keeping a very close eye on the young monarch; no doubt trying to gather information that could be used against him. And it sounded like it had been easy.

'Anything else I should know?'

'Loads, but I'll save that for later. I came to keep you updated on our slippery friend.'

'Steven?' Merlin asked.

'Do you have any other slippery friends? Or perhaps enemies would be the better word. Anyway, that guy from his little 'gang', you know the one who took off yesterday afternoon?' Merlin nodded. 'He got back an hour or so ago; he had a bag of something –didn't look very heavy- but I think he took that when he went yesterday.' He frowned as he tried to remember, but then shook his head. 'Anyway, the horse was exhausted; wherever they'd been must have been quite some distance and they were in a hurry.'

'Did anybody meet him?'

'Not that I could see,' Peter sighed, but I couldn't follow him; I had to see to the horses. He must have gone and spoken to Steven though.'

'He can't have done,' Merlin said with a frown, 'Steven's been in the same meeting as me for the past couple of hours.'

Peter stopped dead on the stairs and turned to face Merlin.

'What's the matter?' Merlin asked.

'Well if he hasn't been able to speak to him because of the meeting, then surely he's on his way to see him now. You need to go and find out what he says.'

'What?'

'I mean it,' he continued, giving Merlin a slight shove back down the stairs. 'We need to go and listen in on Steven; it's the perfect way to find out where he sent his friend off to.'

Merlin looked uncertainly at Peter. Yes, he could probably find his way to Steven's quarters without too much trouble, but spying on him? He wasn't entirely sure that he'd be subtle enough for that sort of endeavour, but, he reminded himself, he must have done his fair share of spying over the past few years, and he evidently hadn't gotten caught. And if Steven was up to something then he needed to know; for all Merlin knew he could be plotting something against Tiden or against Camelot. Or, the far more likely scenario, against Merlin.

'Alright,' Merlin nodded, determination flooding through him. Peter grinned.

'This is so much more exciting than just sitting in the stables all day,' he said, heading back down the stairs.

'You're not coming with me,' Merlin told him, racing past and heading back across the courtyard.

'What? Why not?'

'Let's just say that I have an excuse for being in the castle and you don't.' And with that he ran back up into the castle, leaving Peter glaring at his back.

Once inside it was easy to blend into the hive of activity. There were, quite literally, people everywhere. The corridors were crammed full of soldiers carrying out duties for their respective leaders, servants transporting linens and cleaning equipment to different rooms and general carriers transporting supplies to different places throughout the castle. As such, it was easy for Merlin to slip through the crowds unnoticed. Once or twice he saw servants nodding at him, or heard someone call his name in greeting -evidently the servants of Camelot- but with so many people about he was mostly just another servant. As he climbed towards the guest chambers, however, the crowds thinned out and he felt more and more exposed. He frantically tried to come up with a cover story for why he was up here, just in case he was caught, but at that moment he heard running footsteps on the stairs behind him.

Something about their urgency set him on edge and he side stepped behind a gleaming suit of armour that was pushed up into an alcove. Seconds later, a figure burst through the archway at the end of the hall and Merlin suppressed a smug grin as he saw one of Steven's lackeys, one who was obviously tired after a long ride: he was covered in dust from head to toe and his forehead gleamed with sweat. The man headed down the hall in the direction of Steven's chambers and Merlin quietly moved from his hiding place and began to follow, glancing back over his shoulder to see if anyone else was on their way to the meeting.

'Merlin!'

Merlin froze and closed his eyes in frustration at the sound of the familiar voice. He turned back and forced a smile onto his face.

'Gwaine,' he nodded.

'So you still remember my name then?' he asked with a broad grin. 'Anything else come back?' he asked hopefully.

'Not yet,' he shrugged, casting a surreptitious glance down the corridor. He obviously wasn't subtle enough.

'Are you looking for someone?' Gwaine asked, titling his head to one side. 'I've just been bringing the royal guards up to date on the security arrangements. Wouldn't have thought there was anyone down here that you'd want to talk to.'

'No, not looking for anyone.'

'So you're up here because…?'

'I was going to try and speak to King Tiden,' he said slowly.

'His room isn't on this corridor.'

'Isn't it?'

'No,' Gwaine said slowly, a frown on his face. 'Merlin, are you sure you're alright?'

'Yes, I'm fine. I must have just got lost. You know, memory and everything,' he said, tapping his head.

Gwaine surveyed him for several seconds as if debating whether to ask more questions, but in the end he seemed to decide against it.

'Look, I can take you to Tiden's room if you want, but why don't you just take the afternoon to have a look around Camelot? It might jog your memory. And besides, I'm on patrol down in the town; I can show you around, help you to remember a few things.'

'Really, you don't need to do that,' Merlin smiled, aware of the time passing by very quickly.

'It'd be my pleasure. And really, it'd just be great to have you around.'

The sound of footsteps behind them made both men turn and Merlin felt his heart sink as he saw Steven's man coming back the other way, his stride more relaxed now and his breathing more even. Whatever message he had been passing on, he had already done it. Merlin hid his disappointment.

'What do you say?' Gwaine asked, evidently oblivious to Merlin's emotions.

'Perhaps you could show me the way back to my old chambers, the ones I shared with…Gaius. I'd quite like to look through my things.'

'Sure; probably a good idea.'

They walked back through the crowded citadel with Gwaine chatting away quite happily. The conversation was perfectly pleasant until the knight asked what Arthur had said to him. When Merlin informed Gwaine that he hadn't spoken to the King, the knight began muttering some choice words under his breath, words that Merlin wasn't entirely sure were befitting of a knight who was devoted to his leader. He had tried to assure the man that it didn't bother him, but Gwaine didn't seem inclined to listen. So it was that by the time they reached the chambers, Merlin was quite glad to be rid of the somewhat angry knight.

He pushed open the doors and surveyed the unfamiliar and yet somehow familiar room before him. With a sigh he moved forward and stood in the middle of the room, looking from wall to wall. He was angry with himself for not having been able to find out what Steven had been up to, but perhaps his room would offer him answers of a different sort.

He gazed around once more. The question was: where should he begin?

A knock on the door pulled Arthur from his musings over the letter that had arrived that evening from Ealdor. It had been Elyan who Leon had asked to go and give the good news to Gaius and Hunith, and he had appeared at Arthur's door an hour or so ago having just returned from his trip. Guinevere had then gone with him to have a meal so that the two of them could catch up, leaving Arthur to his own thoughts. Arthur wasn't entirely happy with the contents of the letter, but there was little he could do about it for now. They would just have to wait a little longer for Gaius' return.

Arthur called for whoever had knocked on his door to come in. He assumed it would be the servant-who-wasn't-Merlin, as he usually appeared at this time of the evening, so Arthur was surprised when it was Gwaine who walked into his chambers. He heart sank at the look the knight gave him; he knew exactly what this visit was going to be about.

'Good evening, Princess,' he began, casually walking into the room and looking round as if searching for something. Arthur gritted his teeth at the nickname. Gwaine hadn't called him that for a very long time.

'Gwaine,' he nodded.

'I was just coming to speak to our illustrious leader, brave knight and fearless warrior of the realm,' Gwaine continued, his voice light. He paused and looked at Arthur, his face smoothing out. 'Have you seen him?'

Arthur turned back to the parchment in his hand.

'I don't have time for this,' he said sharply, putting the letter down on his table and fixing his gaze coolly on Gwaine.

'Really? That's strange because I clearly remember you disappearing off into the town for a couple of hours this evening, just to clear your head.'

'So you're spying on me now?'

'I'm one of your knights!' he said incredulously. 'I'm meant to spy on you. Remember that little oath we took. Protect the King, fight for Camelot, honour, loyalty and all that.'

'It's none of your business how I spend my time,' Arthur snapped at him.

'He's been back for over a day and you haven't said a word to him,' Gwaine continued, completely ignoring Arthur's comment.

'I have things to prepare for tomorrow,' he replied, heading over to his cupboard and pulling out several scrolls that had absolutely nothing to do with tomorrow's talks.

'You haven't been to see him, you haven't asked after him.'

'I have asked after him,' he argued, thinking back to his unsuccessful attempt to get information out of his wife yesterday evening. He hadn't really spoken to her since then and he suspected that her meal with Elyan this evening was partly to make sure that Arthur didn't have an excuse for not going to see Merlin. 'And I did see him,' he added, when Gwaine all but blocked his way to the table as he tried to move towards it.

'Watching him serve Tiden drinks at the Kings' meeting doesn't count.'

Arthur pushed past the man, but he moved stubbornly towards the table, fixing Arthur with a look that clearly said he wasn't going anywhere.

'I have other things to think about for the moment.'

'Well you need to give some time to this.'

'He doesn't care whether I speak to him or not,' Arthur argued.

'How would you know? You haven't spoken to him to ask.'

'Why would he care? He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't know who any of us are.'

'So that's it? He doesn't remember, so you're not going to try?' Gwaine asked, looking at him with such disappointment that Arthur clenched his fists at his side, his anger boiling. Gwaine shook his head and laughed a humourless laugh which just made Arthur angrier. 'You've got Merlin back from the dead-'

'But that's not Merlin is it!' Arthur shouted, the words spilling out in his frustration. 'That isn't Merlin, not anymore. It's just someone who looks like him and wants to live in Cyathia as a servant to King Tiden.'

Arthur hadn't planned the outburst, but it stopped Gwaine in his tracks, which was a good enough reason to have let it out. Arthur expected the knight to back down, to mutter some words of encouragement or understanding. It was what Merlin would have done, what Merlin had always done when Arthur had reasonably or unreasonably –as was more often the case- lashed out at him. And then he had always said something to help the situation. That was what Merlin would have done.

But Gwaine was not Merlin.

He looked at Arthur, shaking his head slowly, the disappointment from before even more evident.

'You're a coward,' he said quietly. He turned and walked out of the door, leaving Arthur staring after him. He tried to summon up anger or, at the very least, irritation at what the knight had said, but he couldn't. With shock he realised that he completely agreed with every word that had just come out of the man's mouth.

Arthur stared at the closed door for several seconds, his fists clenched together, before sitting down on the chair and putting both his hands out on the table. He took several deep breaths to try and dispel his anger so that he could approach the situation more objectively.

In the end it was simple. Gwaine was right; Guinevere was right; everyone was right: he should have spoken to Merlin by now. He leaned back in the chair and rested his head against it. What was he doing? No, maybe it wasn't the same Merlin who had joked with him about smiling at women on their tour around the kingdom, or the Merlin who would complain incessantly about all the work Arthur made him do, but then stay up half the night writing a speech for Arthur that he hadn't asked for help with. It wasn't the same Merlin who came in grinning every morning because he knew he could irritate Arthur just by waking him up. No, he wasn't that Merlin, but he was someone who had once been that Merlin and maybe could be again one day.

But that didn't make it any easier.

What would he even say? What should he say more to the point? How much should he tell this new Merlin about what his life had been before? What sort of pressure would that put on him? Arthur shook his head and gave an emotionless laugh. As if Merlin would feel pressure to be anything other than himself. No, it was Arthur who would feel the pressure of their previous relationship; after all, Merlin didn't even remember it.

Arthur swallowed down the sadness that rose in him at the thought. He hadn't thought it possible to lose somebody in so many different ways, and yet he had. He'd lost Merlin in death, he'd lost Merlin in work, he'd lost Merlin in memories and he'd lost him in friendship.

'But not in person,' he heard himself say. The words surprised him; he hadn't known he was thinking them, let alone expected himself to say them, but they sent a flood of determination coursing through him. He stood up. Yes, he had lost Merlin several times over, but he remembered only too clearly how it felt to lose him for good and it wasn't something that he wanted to live through anymore.

He had been given a second chance that he hadn't believed was possible, and perhaps it wasn't the one he would have chosen had he been able to pick, but it was a chance nonetheless, and not one he wanted to let pass him by.

Maybe it would be hard, but why should that stop him? He and Merlin had faced far more difficult situations than the one they currently found themselves in. He tried not to consider the fact that this particular situation was far beyond his comfort zone and skill set -that only made him want to give up again- but the truth was that this was not something he was comfortable with. In all honesty, it would have been far better for Arthur to have lost his memory and Merlin to have handled the uncertainty that followed. Merlin would have taken every opportunity to speak to Arthur, he would have known exactly what to say and he'd have persisted regardless. He was much better at these sort of things.

But it wasn't Arthur who had lost the last six years of his life. It was Merlin. And Arthur was determined to try.

He picked up the letter, deciding that it could be his excuse for the visit, and then took several confident steps to the door. He paused for a moment, his fingers on the handle, trying to work out exactly what his first words should be, but no ideas were forthcoming. He shook his head; he would come up with something on the way to Merlin's chambers.

It was, therefore, with great surprise that he pulled open the door and saw the object of his contemplations standing there wide-eyed, his fist outstretched where he had been poised to knock.

Arthur repressed a growl of annoyance; it seemed that even a Merlin with memory loss was still in the habit of turning up uninvited at Arthur's door.

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