Beyond Recall

A/N Thank you so much for all the reviews; I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Another quick update for you as we draw to a close! Let me know what you think!

Chapter 27

Neither of them said anything for several seconds. Merlin scrambled to find something –anything- he could say that would make the situation better, that would put Arthur at ease, that would stop the revelation from completely destroying whatever trust Arthur still had in him, but there was nothing.

Now that his memories were back, now that he knew everything, remembered everything, understood everything, he realised that there was absolutely nothing he could do to change the look that Arthur was currently directing at him.

Fear.

Merlin didn't remember Arthur ever looking at him like that. Never had Arthur been afraid of him, but then what cause had he ever had to be fearful? In Arthur's eyes, Merlin was a clumsy, weak and relatively useless servant. He had never been a symbol of anything even remotely powerful and now…Merlin didn't know what the previous display had looked like to Arthur, but he was willing to bet that weakness hadn't come into it.

He looked around the room, saw the destruction that had been wrought and knew that anything Arthur had thought of him before had succumbed to the same destruction. On the floor, Tiden lay dead, his face still contorted in pain; to the man's right, Steven was curled on the ground, he was conscious, but his eyes were glazed and unmoving, as if he had gone into some sort of shock. Either way, Merlin doubted he would pose a problem, at least for the next few minutes. In one way that was a good thing: it meant that Merlin wouldn't have to use more magic in front of Arthur in order to make sure that Steven could be subdued; on the other hand, it meant that Merlin had no choice but to talk to his friend of so many years, who now looked more like a stranger.

He looked back at the King and saw that Arthur's eyes hadn't left him, although he had hesitantly staggered forward a few steps, avoiding the four unconscious knights that were spread about the floor. He was still holding his arm which was bleeding quite a lot, although not enough that Merlin felt particularly worried. To be honest, there was nothing he was more worried about at that moment than having to say something to Arthur or having Arthur say something to him.

'You…?' Arthur began, but he stopped there, his head shaking, his face pale, his eyes full of incomprehension. And over all of it was fear.

'Arthur,' Merlin said quietly, as if he was speaking to a creature that might, at any moment, attack him or run from him. Neither was a response that Merlin wanted. Nothing else was said for several more moments, until the silence seemed to form a shield around them, blocking them from the outside world, leaving just the two of them and everything that currently stood in the space between.

Eventually, Arthur's eyes dropped from Merlin, just for a second. It seemed to break the tension that was holding them still and in place, only to be replaced by a new tension that demanded an explanation.

'Was that…was that magic? You learnt how to use magic in Cyathia?' Arthur asked him. His voice trembled, ever so slightly. Merlin could see the irritation flash across the King's eyes at his weakness. He repeated the question, more anger behind the words now. Merlin, however, found that his heart began to race even faster at the question as another possible explanation was presented to him. He could tell Arthur that he had learnt magic in Cyathia, he could explain it as yet another mistake that his memory loss had caused him to make. It wouldn't mend their relationship; it wouldn't help to dissipate Arthur's anger; it wouldn't make up for any of the things that he had done since returning to Camelot.

But it would preserve the illusion of their previous relationship.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the whispers of temptation began to twist through it. With his memory fully intact once more, Merlin felt the shame of what he had done more intently than he had ever imagined possible. But it was his stupidity that most repulsed and disgusted him. The naivety that he had displayed from the moment Steven and James had pulled him out of the river. He had trusted people blindly; he had ignored obvious warning signs; he had let himself be used as nothing more than a puppet in Tiden's schemes. He had been a fool and, while it hadn't, in the end, destroyed Camelot, it had cost him everything in his relationship with Arthur.

But maybe, just maybe, he had chance to salvage something of it.

'Merlin!' Arthur said, and this time he shouted the word, making Merlin jump. 'Did you learn how to use magic in Cyathia?'

Merlin looked at Arthur, looked at his friend's pleading eyes, looked at the uncertainty in the way his king held himself and knew that whatever he said now, regardless of everything that had happened today, Arthur would believe him.

'No,' he said quietly, 'I didn't learn how use magic.' For a moment, he saw relief trickle into Arthur's face; the man evidently misunderstanding Merlin's words, convincing himself that whatever he had seen hadn't been Merlin using magic, but Tiden making a mistake with his own. Merlin pressed on before Arthur could really begin to hope. In the end, the one thing that he knew he owed Arthur, no matter how painful it might be, was the truth. 'I've always had magic, Arthur, from the moment I was born.' He took a deep breath and uttered the words that had haunted him for so long. 'I'm a sorcerer.'

Arthur found that he couldn't move. Nothing that Merlin had done over the last few weeks, nothing that he had admitted to earlier that evening could even begin to come close to the intensity of the emotions that enveloped him at Merlin's quiet words. He felt a shudder go through him, one of total fear that he could not shake.

His eyes remained on Merlin, and even if had he wanted to, he couldn't have changed their gaze, everything in him had stopped; all thoughts had ceased, all movement had been halted, all understanding had been utterly obliterated. Because what understanding could there possibly be, what constants could exist in his life, what fundamental truths could he live by if something so completely impossible was actually real?

He looked at Merlin -nothing else existed at that moment- and saw him standing there in the same clothes he had worn since his arrival, save for the blood on them; holding himself in the same stance as he had done every day in Arthur's service, even if this time he seemed a little more weary than usual; looking at those same eyes that had watched everything with him for so many years, even if they had glowed gold moments ago, and Arthur could not believe what he had just heard and seen.

Without meaning to, Arthur found that he was shaking his head. He stopped himself, but that left only silence and emptiness which seemed even more frightening because of what they had stemmed from.

'You…?' he managed, but the word stuck in his throat and he had to clear it. Even when he had, he found that he couldn't say anything; his voice wouldn't work, he knew that if he spoke, the words would shake, whether from fear or shock or hurt, he didn't know, but that was not acceptable. He had to show strength at all times.

But what strength could he possibly boast in when faced with the display that he had just seen? Merlin had done that. Whatever he had done, he had managed to overthrow a sorcerer who had taken control of several hundred men; he had obliterated him. Arthur had felt the power in the room, at least in some way; he had been overwhelmed by it, even if he couldn't completely understand it. But either way, it had made him feel small and weak. And Merlin had been the one wielding it.

'Arthur,' Merlin said gently, taking the smallest step forwards. Arthur found that his reaction was out of his control; he backed up several steps, bringing his sword up and holding it out warningly. Of all the enemies and oppositions he had faced, none had frightened him as much as Merlin speaking his name and stepping forwards did now. Arthur hated the weakness he was showing, hated how vulnerable and defenceless he felt, but he couldn't help it. What did this say about the last six years? Had magic really been so close to him all this time; been used on him; shaped him as a king? Had his entire kingship been built on the foundations of magic? Because if Merlin had magic, then he couldn't deny that thought. He had relied on Merlin time and time again, trusted him, listened to him, looked to him for support. And he had magic.

But this was Merlin. Merlin! How was that possible? He suddenly found that the betrayal of earlier had faded into nothingness. A Merlin without a memory could be forgiven; it seemed so trivial to Arthur, now; so ridiculous that he had reacted so strongly to the earlier confessions. When compared to this, the mistakes of someone who couldn't remember his past seemed insignificant.

But the lies and deceit of someone who had been Arthur's closest friend for years seemed insurmountable.

And so he moved backwards; moved away from the broken trust and the unexplainable power and the irretrievable past.

Merlin stopped instantly and Arthur saw familiar emotions cross his face: hurt, pain, regret. He refused to let them reach him; they were too much like Merlin, too much of a reminder of the person that Arthur had thought he had known. A shadow of a lie; a shadow that was fast fading as the truth rose on a new and very different day.

'Arthur,' Merlin began again. 'I would never hurt you.'

Arthur found his head shaking again and stopped it, but he still found that his voice was lacking. For a moment, Merlin seemed to unconsciously move forwards, but he caught himself and remained where he was.

'Listen to me.' He stopped there, evidently expecting an argument, but Arthur had none to give. 'I remember everything now. So I know what you must be thinking.' Emotions were beginning to cloud his words; his voice cracked slightly, jumping up and down. 'And I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry, but I didn't think I had a choice. I wanted to help you and protect you, but I didn't know what you'd do if you knew the truth. I couldn't risk leaving you on your own.'

Arthur absorbed the words, but he found that a battle raged inside him. One half was responding to the familiarity in Merlin's tone -gentleness and sincerity- while the other half fought back with the new knowledge that he had and with every thought that he had ever connected to magic: its treachery, its corruption, its deceit.

'Arthur?' Merlin asked, and there was desperation in the words now.

A groan from the floor made Arthur, for the first time in many minutes, look away from Merlin to see Elyan and Leon beginning to stir. Percival and Gwaine were still motionless, but then they had taken quite heavy blows to the head: Percival against the table and Gwaine against the hilt of Arthur's sword.

'They're waking from the enchantment,' Merlin whispered.

Cautiously, Arthur knelt down, keeping Merlin in sight at all times, but the man didn't move.

'Leon,' he said, his voice weak, but working nonetheless. He gently shook the knight's shoulder. His eyes flickered open and he swallowed several times.

'Sire?' he asked. 'What…?' He frowned, looked around and then sat bolt upright. 'What happened?'

'You don't remember?' Leon shook his head in bewilderment. Beside him, Elyan had also sat up. 'Elyan, what do you remember?'

'I…' He frowned. 'I remember coming in here with you and then…' he shook his head. 'Nothing.'

'Sire, what happened?'

Arthur filled them in quickly, watched their horror as they heard of what they had done to Arthur.

'Arthur, I'm so sorry,' Elyan said quickly, Leon echoing the words.

'You didn't know what you were doing,' Arthur assured them, although he heard the hypocrisy in his words. He glanced up at Merlin to see the man looking at him with sorrow. There was no accusation, just grief.

'But Tiden. How…?' Leon asked, turning round to search out the man, but instead he beheld Merlin.

'Merlin?' Elyan turned as well. The two knights looked uneasily between their king and his manservant, evidently confused by his silence up until now and becoming aware of the tension between the two. Wisely, they decided to say nothing.

'What happened to Tiden? How did you defeat him?'

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin stiffen, his eyes closed briefly as he took several deep breaths, but then his gaze returned to Arthur. Reluctantly, Arthur met the man's eyes and saw the grim acceptance on his face. Whatever he said now, Merlin would not try and deny it.

But where did that leave Arthur? He had thought it would be easy. The knights deserved to know the truth, everybody deserved to know the truth. He had deserved to know the truth! And yet to speak it out; to take it outside of just himself and Merlin was to make it irrefutable and undeniable. Arthur was the King; he had laws to uphold, laws which would see Merlin executed. A swell of emotion swept through him and he felt, just for a moment, his head go light. He could see it in his mind: Merlin burning on a pyre, screaming in agony and yet enduring it because it had been Arthur's decision, just as he was standing waiting for whatever his king decided now. Even the thought of it made a wave of nausea pass through Arthur. Across the room, Merlin's head bowed in acceptance.

'Arthur?' Elyan pressed. Arthur swallowed several times and then resolutely looked away from Merlin.

'I don't know,' he said quickly. 'Something must have gone wrong with his magic.' He saw Merlin's head snap up at the words, but ignored him. This protection didn't mean anything; it just gave Arthur more time to decide exactly what he was going to do. Yet he couldn't help but notice a weight lifting from his chest as he said the words. Neither Elyan nor Leon seemed completely convinced by Arthur's explanation, but a sense of urgency seemed to distract their misgivings.

'Sire, we must explain what has happened. Soldiers have been killed, they will be preparing for another battle, this time in full awareness,' Leon said hurriedly. Arthur nodded his agreement. He was finding it hard to focus on what needed to be done. His head was too full of other things.

'Elyan, help Gwaine and Percival,' Arthur instructed. The knight nodded and unsteadily got to his feet.

'Leon, with me. We need to find the knights.' The man nodded.

'There are four other men around Camelot,' Merlin said. He still hadn't moved. 'Steven's men. Do you know who they are?' he asked Leon. His voice was empty of emotion, but somehow full of weariness.

'Yes, they've been in the training grounds.'

'They're the sorcerers who helped with the enchantment. There's something wrong with them at the moment; they'll be easy to capture. You need to find them.'

'You know where they are?' Leon asked, heedless of the mounting tension in the room as Arthur found himself unable to acknowledge the help that Merlin was giving, his mind screaming against it, while the other part of him could do nothing but remain silent. He listened as Merlin recited the places where the men were. Arthur didn't want to know how he knew, but Leon asked nothing. Instead, he nodded his thanks before dragging Steven to his feet and hauling him out of the room.

Arthur made to follow, turning his back on Merlin. Even if he had lied to Elyan and Leon, he knew that he should have Merlin arrested and thrown into the dungeons, but after seeing what he could do with magic, he doubted that the dungeons would hold the man if he decided to walk out. From what Arthur could guess, Merlin could cause whatever damage he wanted without meeting a challenge.

From deep within his mind, a small voice whispered that Merlin was not a threat. He tried to ignore it, tried to push it away, but it was persistent and was attached to a sentiment that Arthur had so long taken as a deeply engrained truth. For now, he would listen to the words.

'Arthur.'

He paused by the door, but he didn't turn round. Merlin seemed to take his halt as a sign to talk.

'What do you want me to do?'

Arthur felt a dark humour rise in him at the question. What did he want Merlin to do? More than anything, he wanted Merlin to go back to their first meeting out on the target practice field and just walk past. He wanted Merlin to tell him that it was all an elaborate ruse on Tiden's part and that he didn't really have magic and he wasn't really a sorcerer. He wanted Merlin to be the same Merlin that he had thought he'd known. For weeks he had thought that was possible, but now it was nothing more than a withered hope.

'What do you want me to do?'

Arthur turned back to him; saw the desolation covering him like a shroud. He distantly wondered if he'd see the same were he to look in a mirror.

'I don't know,' he replied, shaking his head. He left, shutting the door behind him; his heart filled with despair as he realised how relieved he felt to be walking away.

Merlin watched the door shut behind Arthur and felt his shoulders sag. He hadn't realised how stiffly he'd been holding himself for the last few minutes, but his muscles ached. He sighed heavily and took several steps forward, finally feeling as if he wasn't chained to the spot.

'Merlin, are you alright?' Elyan asked. He was carefully tending to Gwaine, putting a pillow under the man's head and attempting to rouse him, before doing the same for Percival.

'I'm fine,' he nodded, but he had to repeat the words again so that they could be heard.

'You were right then? Steven had a plan.'

'He did, Tiden too.' He moved closer and knelt down beside Elyan, wondering if he could subtly whisper a spell to wake Gwaine.

'And you and Arthur?' He said it casually, busying himself with rearranging his friend's body so it wasn't in such an awkward position. Merlin said nothing, just shook his head when Elyan turned.

'He'll come round; he always does.' Again Merlin said nothing, deciding instead to pursue a different topic of conversation as the first glimmer of hope sparked in him.

'Did Gwaine find my mother and Gaius?' Elyan turned with a smile, nodding quickly.

'Just as you said.'

'They're in Camelot?' he asked, surprised at how strong his voice was, when compared to a little while back.

'Hidden somewhere, I think, while the fighting was on. Gwaine didn't want them hurt.'

The slight flicker of joy evaporated instantly as the last word echoed through his head. Hurt.

Peter!

Merlin jumped to his feet instantly.

'What is it?' the knight asked in alarm. Merlin was already halfway to the door.

'Peter,' he called as he left the room.

As he flew through the hallways, passing dazed soldiers who were in various states of recovery –some leaning against walls, others helping comrades up, yet more looking around in fearful confusion, while others knelt beside fallen friends, their grief palpable- Merlin found his mind consciously turning away from what had transpired between himself and Arthur. Too much contemplation on the subject was likely to send Merlin spiralling into a very dark place and, after everything that he had been through of late, he wasn't entirely sure he could cope with that. Instead, he focussed entirely on his current task. He had to find Peter, help him, save him. He would not let Peter's fate be the same as James' had been. He refused to lose yet another person due to Tiden's malevolence.

And so he ran through Camelot, seeing it, remembering it, feeling connected and yet so disconnected from it all, and found himself stumbling through the doors that led onto the steps down to the courtyard. He pulled up sharp as he looked across. The moonlight and the many torches that had been lit painted a truly horrific picture. It looked like a massacre. There were bodies everywhere; their cloaks and armour decorated with the many colours of the represented kingdoms. But over all of it, a crimson shroud was laid. And not the bright, powerful crimson of Camelot –though it could be seen in various places – but the terrible and tragic crimson of life lost.

Merlin found that even his desire to get to Peter could not overpower the force of shock that held him in place as he looked out across the courtyard. And standing in the middle of all of it, Merlin saw the one person for whom this picture could very well destroy everything.

Arthur.

Some of the knights were picking their way through the bodies, evidently on Arthur's command, but the King seemed to be frozen in place. He turned his head slowly, as if in some sort of trance, and the flicker from the torch which he held illuminated his face enough for Merlin to see it shimmering like a ghost, filled with an incomprehension and despair that Merlin had only seen on a few occasions, each of them terrible, one of them having happened only a few minutes ago.

The desire in Merlin to go over there and offer some comfort was achingly familiar, but as his feet made to fulfil it, Arthur caught sight of him. The King's face was hard to make out, but Merlin thought, just for a moment, that there had been some sort of pleading in the man's expression, as if he wanted that support that Merlin had always given so willingly. But then he seemed to catch himself and he turned away, slowly making his way through the many dead.

Merlin made no move to go to him; he doubted it would help.

Carefully he picked his own way through the men that lay on the ground, heading towards the east watchtower, the one where he had seen Tiden directing soldiers through the enchantment. As he got closer, there were more soldiers recovering from their enchantment, evidently the men that Tiden had been sending to kill Peter. None of them paid him much heed as he reached the watchtower, however.

Cautiously he moved forwards. He had rarely been in this building. It was the only watchtower that wasn't used due to the fact that it required some major repairs. Now though, Merlin subtly used magic to open the locked entrance. It consisted of thick metal bars which protected it from unwanted intruders. The worn, stone stairs spiralled up almost immediately, but around the other side of them were several doors. Merlin headed to the one that seemed familiar to him from Tiden's taunting earlier. It wasn't exactly that he recognised it, but it just felt like he knew it. Whispering a few words to provide himself with a floating light, Merlin pushed the wooden door open, its hinges seeming to put up a fight, and found himself in a small room that was filled with empty storage barrels. It smelt stuffy and musty, as if nothing had been there for months, but when he looked at the ground by the light of his orb, he saw the telltale sign of footprints in the dirt and dust.

Following them, he came to a floor panel with a metal ring. The wooden boards around it were marked with several scuffed footprints and, without hesitation, Merlin pulled on the ring. The boards came away with a creaking of hinges to reveal a small storage cellar, only a metre deep and wide.

And there, curled up on himself, a gag in his mouth and his hands tied, was Peter. The boy looked up fearfully, but his eyes creased in a smile as he saw who it was. He closed them in what looked to be a silent prayer of thanks and then attempted to pull himself onto his feet, but he stumbled slightly. Instantly, Merlin's arms were there, looping under his shoulders and pulling him out of the hole to lean against two sturdy looking barrels. The boy gave several grimaces of pain as he was moved, which told Merlin that he was more hurt than he appeared to be. Quickly, he pulled the gag out of Peter's mouth.

'Peter?' he asked gently. He crouched beside the boy, one hand lightly placed on his shoulder as a small show of comfort. He was afraid to do any more in case he aggravated other hidden injuries. The light of the orb presented Merlin with a grim picture. Peter's face was bruised, one eye almost swollen closed beneath purple and blue skin. His hair was matted to his face on one side and there were several places where his clothes were ripped and bloodstained. He held himself stiffly, tension reverberating across his shoulders and, when Merlin muttered a spell to break the ropes around his hands, he instantly held the right arm tenderly with the left, keeping it close to his chest.

But even so, that didn't stop a bloodied grin from spreading across the boy's face as soon as the gag was removed. He looked at Merlin, gratitude and weariness more than evident.

'You look terrible,' he croaked. Merlin felt a smile creeping onto his face; it was the first one he remembered giving in a long, long time.

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