Beyond Recall

A/N: Thank you for the reviews. Apologies that I haven't managed a quicker update: crazy week! As such, I haven't checked this chapter as much as I usually do, but hopefully there won't be too many glaring errors! Anyway, onward. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Chapter 17

Arthur found that the next few days brought out in him a contradiction of emotions. At the heart of the more positive ones was Merlin. Ever since the familiar wake up call a few days ago, Arthur had dared to hope, really hope, that maybe Merlin would fully regain his memories. It became apparent, very quickly, that fully regaining the memories would be, if it happened at all, a very long path, but Arthur watched the first few steps unfold before him.

For the first day or so, the recollections were few and far between, but they were there. Many of them didn't paint Arthur in a particularly good light. Several times Merlin had been in the middle of doing a job –jobs which he was still doing to a far greater quality than he ever had done before- when he would suddenly turn to Arthur and say things like: 'You put me in the stocks,' or, 'You tipped a bucket of water over me,' or –the one which he had all but shouted-, 'You fired me?'

'What? No, I didn't,' Arthur had argued, as he watched Merlin deftly dress him in his ceremonial robes ready for an audience with the royal guards of the various kingdoms.

'Yes you did. You fired me,' he stared at the ground, frowning as he tried to remember. '…while I was trying to tell you something important. And you just told me to get out.'

All at once, Arthur had remembered that moment. It had been such a long time ago. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore Merlin's accusing look, but when the servant didn't back down, Arthur sighed.

'Look…in my defence, you had just told me that someone was cheating in a tournament by using a shield that came alive with-'

'Snakes!' Merlin interrupted victoriously, pointing a finger at Arthur and almost making him jump.

'Yes,' Arthur nodded, 'and I had just accused the man of cheating and been proven wrong.'

'But I wasn't wrong,' Merlin argued. 'I was right. Wasn't I?' he frowned in confusion and Arthur could see the frustration in him at not being able to remember. 'Was I right?' he asked again.

'Yes,' Arthur nodded, after several seconds of debating whether he could get away with actually reinventing the past and telling Merlin he'd be wrong. 'You were right. And I un-fired you,' he added pointedly.

'Because I was right,' Merlin said with a smug smile.

All in all, the first few memories hadn't done anything to make Arthur look like a good employer –or a good person, come to that- but the memories that followed seemed to be more helpful when it came to rebuilding their friendship. By the end of the third day, Merlin remembered Gedref's challenge on the beach; remembered Arthur drinking the liquids from both goblets. He remembered bits of going with Arthur to rescue Elyan when Cendred had captured him. And there were other moments, moments that even Arthur had forgotten: mishaps on hunts, things that Arthur had said to him –not all good- or vice versa, dark moments when Arthur had lost hope, other times when the two of them had teased and taunted each other. The collection of memories were by no means a complete picture; Merlin explained that all he had were small glimpses; there were no continuous sequences of memories, no overriding understanding of how things fitted together or what had motivated him, but there was enough to give him a picture of the past.

And as the memories returned, Arthur began to see more and more glimpses of the Merlin he had known. The way he spoke to Arthur had shifted, even the way he walked and moved when he was with Guinevere and Arthur had changed. More and more, Arthur found himself slipping back into the banter that he and Merlin had always shared so easily. It wasn't like before -more like a shadow of what had been- but it was enough to break through the final tendrils of grief that had been wrapped around Arthur's chest.

But while Arthur became more and more hopeful over the memory returns, Merlin, after the first couple of days, seemed to draw into himself. The banter that he had begun to join in with seemed to fade away, leaving a Merlin who seemed to be struggling. Arthur wanted to ask why, but a lifetime of avoiding emotional confrontations, especially when it came to Merlin, made him reluctant, and he left the servant to his brooding, hoping it would pass.

But with the positive influence of Merlin's progress fading slightly, Arthur was forced to confront the disappointment of the talks. He and Guinevere had discussed at length with the knights what could be done to redirect the talks after the disastrous meeting, and it had been decided that more time needed to be given to individual kingdoms to voice their concerns. With that in mind, they had reorganised the schedule to give each king or queen the chance to voice their views with no interruptions. At first, Arthur had believed it was working; it had genuinely seemed to be. The kingdoms had begun to come around to each other's viewpoint, but as soon as Arthur had brought everyone back into the discussion, exactly the same problems as before had surfaced.

At first he had tried to stay optimistic, tried to convince himself that things would look better soon as long as he stayed positive and certain, but that pretence became harder and harder to keep up as the talks disintegrated around him. The Kings and Queens became more suspicious of each other with every day that passed and their fears turned into accusations and threats. Nothing Arthur said could placate them and nothing he did convinced them of his sincerity in fighting for peace.

With every meeting that passed, Arthur saw his hopes for Albion trickle into dust.

'Arthur,' Merlin ventured uncertainly one evening. Gwen was meeting with the other queens in an attempt to mend some bridges that Tiden had so effectively managed to burn, which left Merlin and Arthur in the King's chambers: Merlin polishing Arthur's chainmail for the third time in as many days and Arthur staring dejectedly at the table, picking at it with his fingers.

The day had been a hard one for Arthur. Another meeting had gone badly; the situation with the peace treaty was deteriorating much more rapidly than even Merlin would have expected.

Several times a day, Merlin tried to remind himself that this was what Cyathia needed, that these talks needed to fail in order to protect the legacy that Cyathia was trying to leave for its children, but every time he looked at Arthur he struggled to remember that. The King was crushed by the turn the talks had taken, that much was obvious, and Merlin felt his own guilt increase every time he saw it afresh on the man's face.

It wasn't that he was disrupting the talks personally, Tiden had made sure that his other servants and soldiers took care of that, but Merlin was feeding information on Arthur's reactions to the Cyathian monarch. It seemed Tiden's assumption that Merlin would be let into the King's confidences due to their history had been spot on. Arthur and Gwen frequently discussed things in front of Merlin, they did nothing to try and hide their worries, fears or strategies from him. On occasion, Arthur had even looked at Merlin as if he was expecting him to give some advice.

And everything that Merlin heard he passed onto Tiden, either through Steven or James. At first, it hadn't been too difficult to fill Tiden in on Arthur's next moves, but as time passed and his memories returned, his task to pass on information felt more and more like treachery; more and more like the wrong thing to be doing. And yet he couldn't stop; he had sworn his loyalty to Tiden, he knew what his cause was; he had to continue.

But loyalty was fast becoming something that Merlin couldn't define; not when it came to himself. With each day that passed he was remembering more and more. It wasn't that he had anywhere near all his memories, but he had enough to begin to understand himself and Arthur. At first he had found it exhilarating to actually be remembering something of his past. His initial worries of what it might reveal about himself had disappeared quite quickly when nothing that came back to him suggested the maliciousness of character that he had so feared. But the exhilaration had worn off very quickly as he began to remember more. He remembered saving Arthur's life on more than one occasion -though the use of magic meant that Arthur was oblivious to those moments. He remembered fighting for Arthur, helping Arthur, encouraging Arthur. He remembered Arthur asking for his opinion, even -at times- seeming to rely on it.

And now, as he had sat polishing chainmail and watching Arthur brood over the events of the day, another memory had returned to him; one that was so full of unspoken desperation, sincerity and loyalty, that Merlin found himself needing to ask Arthur what had happened to bring the event about. The King turned at Merlin's voice.

'What is it?' he asked, glancing over to where Merlin sat on the floor.

'I remembered something else.'

'Oh yes?' Arthur asked, and though his interest was clear, Merlin's announcement of a memory return hadn't been met with the usual hope that the King had shown on previous occasions. Merlin put down the polishing cloth and stood up, tentatively making his way over to a chair. At Arthur's nod, he sat down.

He looked down at his hands for several seconds, wondering how best to pose the questions he wanted to ask. He had a feeling that whatever their answers were, they would be a turning point that he couldn't come back from.

'Merlin?' Arthur pressed.

'I remember…I remember coming into your room without knocking-'

'That doesn't narrow it down.'

Merlin gave a small smile before he continued. 'I came in and you were sitting…' he laughed. '…actually, you were sitting exactly where you are now and your arm was bandaged. We were talking about something, I don't know what. I think I called you a prat,' he frowned.

'It wouldn't surprise me,' Arthur murmured.

'And then I said something to you…' He stopped again, feeling uncertain.

'Merlin,' Arthur said with a half hearted sigh, 'if you want to ask about something that happened, you have to tell me what it is that you remember.'

'I know,' he nodded. He took another breath and sat forward, his hands placed on the table and his eyes raised towards Arthur. 'I told you that I was happy to be your servant 'til the day I died,' he finished simply. 'And I meant it,' he added quietly. He looked at Arthur and saw him smile, just the tinniest bit, as he stared at the table, obviously remembering the event. 'What had happened for me to tell you that?' Merlin asked.

'I don't know,' Arthur admitted after several seconds. 'I had just recovered from what should have been a fatal wound. Gaius had found something, a tincture I think, and it worked. That evening you came and spoke to me; you told me you had to talk to me and I said-'

'You said that you decided when we talk,' Merlin interrupted, fragments of the conversation returning to him.

'Yes, and you carried on talking anyway.' He shook his head and looked up at Merlin. 'You said something about me being a great king, but that I had to learn to listen.' He rolled of his eyes. 'I thought you were trying to leave your job, but you told me you weren't, and then you said…' he gestured towards Merlin, '…then you said about being my servant until you died.'

There was silence for several seconds.

'You remember it well,' Merlin said slowly, but it was a question of sorts, one that he was keen to understand the answer to. Arthur looked at him and nodded.

'You hadn't been my servant that long when you said it, not really; it can't have been more than a year,' Arthur continued. 'I don't know why you said it, or what you were thinking at the time, but…' he smiled to himself and shook his head, '…but I believed you,' he shrugged.

'Why?'

'Because…' He shook his head again. 'I don't know. I don't know why I believe half the crazy things you say, but I do.' He stared at the wall as if he was reminiscing over all those 'crazy' things, but soon he stirred himself and sat up on the chair. 'I don't suppose you remember why you said it?'

'Sorry,' Merlin told him, shaking his head. He moved off the chair and went back to his polishing, leaving Arthur to return to his brooding.

But as he sat there, making sure that Arthur's chainmail shone ready for any meetings tomorrow, Merlin found his own thoughts turning inwards as he considered the conversation he had just had.

Something had occurred to him. If he had allowed himself to think about it before now, he probably would have realised sooner, but he had been fighting against this particular pattern of thought for fear of the preconceptions it would destroy. Now though, with Arthur having so openly answered his question, Merlin found his thoughts irrevocably drawn to the only possible conclusion he could draw about his past in Camelot.

He had never been against Arthur.

And if he had never been against Arthur, then the course he was currently on went against everything he had been before he had lost his memories. He knew that now. Even if he still didn't understand the apparent loyalty he had given to Arthur, even if he didn't understand how he could follow a king who hated magic, possibly about magic here he understood that he had stood by Arthur through everything and had intended to stand by him for as long as he possibly could.

And the problem was that the more time he spent with Arthur now, the more he realised that part him still wanted to stand by Arthur; still wanted to be his servant until the day he died.

Sleep eluded Merlin again that night. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and tried to piece together the two different lives that were competing for his commitment. On one hand he had a kingdom full of magic, where sorcerers were able to use their gifts for good and in peace. A whole land where people weren't persecuted for their unique and wonderful abilities; where Merlin had felt at home; where he had finally begun to feel like he belonged.

And on the other hand there was Camelot; a kingdom that was sworn to fight against magic; a kingdom that would kill Merlin if his magic was revealed; and yet in Camelot was a kingdom –and a king- that Merlin knew he had devoted himself to in his previous life. He didn't remember why, but he knew that it was with Camelot that he had allied himself. Knowing that and actually feeling it were two different things, but more and more, Merlin was beginning to wonder if perhaps loyalty with Camelot should be where his future lay. Everything he had remembered pointed to the fact that Arthur –while being a pain half the time- had a pure heart and could, Merlin believed, be someone who brought about lasting and promising change.

It was thoughts like that which had kept him up nearly the entire night, but by the morning he had a plan of sorts. He dressed even earlier than usual and quietly made his way down towards the knights' living quarters. A place he only knew of because Gwaine had continually given him directions –and encouraged him to come and talk- whenever they passed each other in corridors. Once there, he made his way to the room that he was sure Gwaine had said was his and lightly knocked.

He had expected to have to knock several times to wake the man up, but the door flung open seconds later to reveal a fully dressed and surprisingly wide awake knight.

'Merlin!' he said in surprise, but he grinned widely. 'You're here early.'

'I'm really sorry for-'

'Don't worry about it. I'm taking out a patrol today anyway. Just heading there now.'

'Oh,' Merlin said, hiding his disappointment; he shouldn't have assumed that the man would be free, but he had always seemed so laid back about his duties that Merlin had half expected him to pass early shifts up for an extra few hours of sleep.

'You alright?'

'Yes, I was just going to take you up on your offer to fill me in on a few things.' Gwaine smiled widely, before clapping Merlin on the back.

'An odd time of the morning to ask, but count me in. I'll be back from patrol late afternoon. Your quarters?' he asked. Merlin nodded and smiled.

'That would be good.'

'Great. I've got plenty to tell you. You'll have loads to hold over Arthur's head by the time I've finished.' With that he gave Merlin a grin and then disappeared off down the corridor.

Merlin made his way up to Arthur's and Gwen's chambers after that and delivered his familiar wake up call, but Arthur made no attempt to reprimand him and it became apparent very quickly that the monarch had had just as little sleep as Merlin, although probably for very different reasons. The talks were playing heavily on his mind. It was obvious from his silent brooding and from the frequent reassurances that Gwen gave him. But Merlin quickly realised that it was more than being disappointed in the meetings; Arthur was fearful of going in to the one today. He seemed less sure of himself, less determined to make things right. And Merlin found that everything in him wanted to offer some words of comfort.

Yet he couldn't. He knew these talks would fail, he knew they had to, but he wished they could do it more quickly. The whole process was being dragged out; it was wearing Arthur down and building resentment between the different kingdoms that were gathered. Looking at Arthur, Merlin decided there and then that he would talk to Tiden personally later on and ask him to complete the plan more quickly. He had no idea how the monarch would react; for one thing, Merlin was meant to be meeting with Steven later on to feedback on Arthur's reaction, but he didn't care. Tiden had said that this would be a peaceful and low-cost means of protecting Cyathia, but at the moment the emotional and social costs were climbing and Merlin couldn't bear to watch it.

Later that morning, Merlin once again found himself in a meeting, standing just behind Arthur's chair, watching the young King become more and more demoralised. The talks lay in tatters. Gwynedd, who up until now had been on Arthur's side, began to voice their concerns, while King Chalere seemed to revel in the anger and bitterness that was being created. He shouted down the other leaders, causing them to retaliate with equal ferocity. Queen Iola, who, throughout the meetings, had remained relatively calm and respectful –despite her disapproval- now gave into her own anger and frustration, which destroyed the last vestiges of calm.

And try as he might, Arthur could not talk them round or talk them down. Merlin hated watching it, hated seeing the man struggling in his own council rooms. His face was white, his eyes giving way to the fury that was in him. All around, the leaders, their spouses and their advisors were locked in arguments; no-one's voice could be heard over another's and the room got louder and louder.

Merlin saw Gwen reach over to Arthur and whisper something in his ear. She looked close to tears, though she held herself regally. Beside her, Arthur gave a resigned nod and slowly stood up. That action alone should have brought silence into the room, but it made no difference whatsoever. Merlin willed the people in the room to be quiet, willed them to listen, but they continued to talk.

'That is enough!' Arthur's voice rang out loudly in the room, echoing off the walls and creating further reprimands. The strain in his tone was evident and Merlin had no doubt that defeat was written across his face, but it worked. The room fell silent and everyone turned to face him. 'We are loosing sight of what is important for our kingdoms and for our futures. All of you came here because, in some small measure, you believed that this unity could be achieved. You believed it had a place in this land, in your people's legacies, and I know-'

'You know?' The shout was loud and full of disdain. The shock that someone had interrupted Arthur was evident in the faces of all gathered, but Merlin felt his own shock increase as he realised that it had been Tiden. He looked over at the man, a frown of confusion on his face. What was he doing? Over the course of the talks, Tiden had said very little, especially when compared to some of the other rulers, but he had always stayed relatively neutral. Even when the talks were breaking down, Tiden's contributions in meetings were always very measured and controlled. But now a new fervour seemed to be in him and Merlin felt his skin go cold. 'What do you know?' the man sneered, standing up and fixing Arthur with a gaze.

'I will not-' Arthur began, shock having kept him silent for a few seconds.

'What can you possibly know of creating unity and peace across a land? Look around you. We have been rulers for longer than you have been alive and yet you pretend to have some understanding into a unification that is evidently unachievable.'

Merlin felt shock fill him at the words. What was Tiden doing? The disrespect in everything that he said was almost unbelievable in its intensity. Merlin looked at those gathered, expecting to see equal disbelief, but to his shock, some were nodding their agreement. Arthur, too, was looking around as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Merlin saw his stance tighten.

'I may be a young king,' Arthur replied, his voice calm, but Merlin could sense that he was at the edge of his control, 'but that does not mean that my vision in naïve.'

'These talks show that it is,' Tiden answered swiftly. 'You have gathered together six kingdoms, seven including your own, and you can not get them to agree on anything.'

'How do you expect to unite the entire land, if you can't manage it with the few of us who are gathered here?' Chalere added, though his tone was marginally more respectful.

Merlin felt his heart thud painfully in his chest as he watched all the focus shift from Tiden onto Arthur; it was if some outside force was controlling each and every person, until every intense gaze was on Arthur. Merlin realised what Tiden was doing, realised how clever the man was.

'I believe that peace is the dream at the heart of all leaders,' Arthur began, but his voice held the slightest bit of defensiveness; it wasn't as sure as it usually was; the confidence that had marked it out before was fading. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Tiden sit back, and he felt his anger surge. This wasn't about breaking the talks anymore; this was about destroying Arthur's reputation with a few carefully chosen words and a foundation of magically induced mistrust.

'Our kingdoms already have peace,' Iola said; she was hesitant, but Merlin could see her reservations, along with those of the others, falling away.

'And what you're proposing is more likely to lead to war than peace,' Brayden added forcefully.

'The whole purpose of these talks is to avoid war,' Arthur said, a twinge of desperation in his tone.

'How do you expect to join the kingdoms of Albion –kingdoms that are infinitely different in their beliefs, traditions and cultures- in anything other than an uneasy alliance?'

'You risk destroying what truces and understandings are already in place.'

'That won't-' Arthur tried, but the voices around him were getting louder again. And for the first time in days all the monarchs were united in their purpose. Against Arthur.

Merlin watched in horror as Arthur's eloquent arguments were overridden and as the monarchs joined together in proclaiming the talks a failure. Merlin knew that this had been Tiden's aim –his own aim- all along; he knew that Cyathia was now safe, but the way Tiden had done it filled him with revulsion. Merlin looked at Arthur, still standing up under the barrage of questions and accusations, but suddenly looking so much smaller than he had done before.

This was cruel and unnecessary. The talks hadn't needed Arthur's reputation to be called into question in order to fail; they had been going to do that anyway.

Before he realised what he was doing, Merlin had taken a step forward. The majority of the room didn't even notice, and most of those who did didn't care, but Tiden caught sight of the movement. Merlin felt the ruler's eye on him like a physical weight. He moved back again, but it took all his resolve not to move closer to Arthur as a small show of support. All his instincts were shouting at him to do it, but he kept himself rooted to the spot, desperately waiting for the meeting to be over.

Eventually, an uneasy silence fell over the group; everyone had said what they had wanted to; everyone had expressed the reservations that had been bubbling away for days due to Tiden's followers amongst the servants and soldiers. And everyone had turned against Arthur's vision. With wariness, the monarchs finally gave their attention back to Arthur. He still stood, but he seemed tired.

Merlin waited for him to say something, but before he did, he called for his cup to be filled. Quickly, Merlin moved forward, aware of the pressing weight of silence. As he got closer to Arthur, he saw the defeat in the way he held himself, in the expression on his face. Carefully, Merlin poured the drink, but as he stepped back he couldn't help but catch Arthur's eye, wanting to give some sort of support; something that showed how sorry he was for what had been done to the young King.

It was only the smallest of glances that was exchanged between the two of them, but even in that short amount of time, Merlin saw a change pass over Arthur's face. He looked at Merlin and suddenly his jaw clenched, his chin lifted slightly, and his eyes blazed with a sudden fire. As Merlin moved back, Arthur turned to address those gathered.

'My friends,' and Merlin couldn't imagine how much strength it took to address the others in the room in such a way. 'We stand on the precipice of the future. I want that future to include all of us; together, but I understand that you are worried, concerned and fearful. I understand your hesitation. It is wise for us to take time to consider such monumental steps on our paths, and perhaps now is not the time for Albion to one united kingdom, perhaps that is a future that stretches beyond us. But whether now or in hundreds of years to come, I still believe in it.'

Merlin saw the other leaders shuffle uncomfortably; they had evidently hoped for Arthur to disband the talks, and yet still he persisted. Merlin didn't understand where this new resolve had come from. What was it that made him so desperate to see this thing through?

'So here is what I propose…here is what I ask. We will all take two days. There will be no councils, no meetings. Use the days to consider the future you see and then we will come back for the final gathering of this unity treaty. If you decide against it, then we will part ways has friends. If you decide that it is the path you wish to take, them arrangements will be made for future communions. We will look ahead to a time when we are not only friends, but allies as well.'

He swallowed, his posture shrinking again as if he had given his all and could give no more.

'That is all I ask,' he finished. Without another word, he held out a hand to Gwen and glanced back at Merlin. Seconds later they were leaving the room and heading back to the royal chambers, leaving Leon to dismiss the other guests.

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