Chapter Seven

Arthur wrapped his horse's reigns around the post and walked into the tavern. He ordered a tankard of beer from the owner and then sat down in the corner of the room.

It'd been three weeks since he had left Camelot. For several days, at every village he would come to he would stop and ask after King Uther and his family. He was given the same response every time. The only family was his ward the Lady Morgana. Arthur had kept asking, hoping eventually, the farther away from Camelot he got, the spell's influence would have to stop and his concern only increased each time he was proven otherwise.

He had started reaching out to contact the druids. In some ways it was easier than it would have been three weeks ago, without the suspicion the Prince asking after the druids would normally have caused. While people were hesitant at first to confide in a stranger, Arthur was able to put the diplomatic skills he had learned from his father to good use to get them talking.

He had finally been promised a guide who would lead him to the druids. He had been sent here to the tavern to meet him.

But he had heard a lot of other things to. Things he almost wished he could have forgotten. He had heard how many of Uther's anti-magic laws were abused by those putting them into practice. He had heard many people's views on the laws to begin with. He had heard much more dissention then he had thought there had been. A picture had begun to be painted of his father that he was not entirely sure he could deny. He had always known his father was firm and sometimes hard, but he had always thought him fair. But seeing him through the villagers' eyes…he began to wonder.

He took a drink of his beer and ran a hand over his eyes. His coin was running out. His horse had thrown a shoe. He was tired. And he was more than ready to be remembered already.

The tavern door opened and a man came in. He surveyed the room and then spotting Arthur began to approach him. Arthur sat up straighter. It took a moment to place the face in these unfamiliar surroundings, but Arthur recognized this man. And he was approaching him; he was sitting down in front of Arthur, opening his mouth, preparing to speak. For a moment Arthur felt his hopes rise at the idea that just maybe this man recognized him too.

"You're the man who wants the guide…into the forest?" asked the man, carefully phrasing his question.

Arthur felt his hope sink. "Yes…you don't know me do you?"

"No," said the man, frowning. "Should I?"

"Well there's a question with a very complicated answer," sighed Arthur. He frowned. "Wait. You're the one going to lead me to the dr-" The man shot him a warning look, and Arthur quickly corrected himself. "Into the forest?"

"Yes. I am."

"How do you…know the forest?"

"I…am friends with some people who live in them. We should get going if we want to reach the particular area of the woods you're interested in before dark. My name is Lancelot by the way." He held out his hand.

Arthur took and shook it. "Arthur, I'm Arthur."

As Arthur followed Lancelot deep into the forest he couldn't keep the questions from rushing through his head, all wondering how Lancelot had ended up as a friend of the Druids. Had he always been? Was he himself a druid? Perhaps the griffin had been of his own making, summoned as a way to gain Arthur's favor with its defeat? But then after defeating it, Lancelot had not stayed around to reap the rewards. He had left Camelot to prove himself worthy of knighthood, but how had that led to this? He wanted to ask Lancelot these questions, but with Lancelot clearly not remembering him it would have been difficult and besides, when being taking to druids did not seem a good time to start claiming an acquaintance with Uther.

Lancelot was friendly during the walk. He seemed to be on his guard, and Arthur was sure he was taking him on a more round about root then was necessary (to extremely effective results, Arthur could not have found his way again had his life depended on it) but Lancelot passed a few pleasantries and joked occasionally as they walked along.

It was coming on evening when they reached the encampment. The first sounds Arthur heard were children playing. Then the trees gave way a little and they stepped into a clearing. There were probably about fifty people there, including women and children. Tents were set up and fires were crackling with several pots of food sizzling over them. Lancelot weaved through the groups, leading Arthur to the back of the clearing and up a small embankment. On top of the embankment sat a druid Arthur was surprised to recognize. It was the same man he had handed Mordred to.

"This is Iseldir," said Lancelot, making the introductions. "This is Arthur, the man who has been asking about the druids."

Iseldir gestured for Arthur to take a seat. Lancelot discreetly took up a position nearby. Clearly he did not all together trust Arthur and was prepared to defend Iseldir should the need arise.

"It is good to know you," said Iseldir, smiling. "I hope we can help you. The man who told us about you said you claimed to be in grave need of assistance."

"Yes," said Arthur. "I am."

"What is your problem?"

"I think I'm under a spell. Or else everyone else is," said Arthur. Finally being able to express his fear out loud gave him a sense of relief and he felt emboldened to continue. "You won't believe this, no one else does, but I know you. We've met before. I've met *him* before." He waved at Lancelot. Lancelot opened his mouth to protest but Arthur continued. "I know, I know, as far you're concerned you've never seen me before and don't remember me. Probably think I'm crazy. But I'm not. I know I'm not! Some things are different for instance Morga-" Arthur hesitated. These were still druids and Iseldir would not remember his claim of indebtedness to him for saving Mordred. Convincing him he was Arthur Pendragon might be even more fatal then failing to convince his father of it. "My own father doesn't remember me. But at the same time, the same day I woke up to this nightmare, I woke up in my own room, with my own things still there. I do exist, but no one remembers! I can't prove it! I've tried and all it does it cause people to start backing away from me slowly, but I swear this is true!"

Iseldir frowned thoughtfully. "That is curious. Tell me, people have absolutely no memory of you, from anytime in your life?"

"No…" said Arthur, "As far as they know I was never even born."

"Even your birth is forgotten?"

"Yes…well actually," said Arthur, a thought dawning, "It's very strange. I never thought about it before now but…they remember my mother having a child, but that it died at birth along with her. She did die having me. But there was no child that died with her."

Iseldir sat thinking for several long minutes. At last he rose to his feet. "I must ask you to wait here a short time. I believe I have an answer to what is happening to you, but first I wish to consult with some others to be sure."

Lancelot stayed behind as Iseldir walked away, he watched Arthur curiously. He cleared his throat.

"So…where exactly are we supposed to have met?"

Arthur sighed. "Camelot."

"I have been there," conceded Lancelot. "How do you believe we met?"

Arthur hesitated. This was a difficult question to answer without claiming to be a closer to the king then he wanted to admit out here in a wood full of druids. "Merlin introduced us."

"You know Merlin?" asked Lancelot, smiling.

"Yes. Not that he knows me anymore. What I don't understand is how you ended up here?" Arthur asked, letting the question that had been nagging him burst out. "You set out to prove yourself a worthy knight of Camelot. How did you end up here? With the druids?"

Lancelot frowned. "It's strange to hear you talk…I didn't leave Camelot because…I came to Camelot hoping somehow, in some dream, to become a knight. I have worked for nothing else my entire life. But there was no way. Merlin tried to help but there was nothing he could do."

"Which is when you lied about being noble?"

"What?" asked Lancelot, surprised. "No. I stayed in Camelot for a while. There was really nothing to be done. I stayed though. Merlin was a good friend and Guinevere of course...but I don't know what I would eventually have done but circumstances compelled me…" Arthur noticed his gaze drift off. He turned and looked in the direction Lancelot was look and his eyes landed on Mordred. Shock ran through him.

"Mordred?" asked Arthur, looking back at Lancelot, "What did he have to do with it?"

Lancelot looked equally startled. "You know the boy's name?"

"Yes. He gave it to me when I rescued him from the castle and helped him to escape Camelot." Frustration at the circumstances were leading Arthur to be more honest than a voice in the back of his head was telling him was prudent.

"You?" Lancelot raised an eyebrow. "I…Morgana and I took him out of the castle…one of the guards saw my face I was forced to leave Camelot with Mordred…the druid are good people and have offered me friendship since then. I've helped them a few times when I can…I'm very confused." He sunk down and took a seat on a tree stump. "I'd say you were completely mad but you know Mordred's name. I don't understand."

"Maybe," replied Iseldir, and both men gave a start. "I can help explain things." He took a seat between Arthur and Lancelot. He looked at Arthur and Arthur could have sworn he saw concern in his eyes. When he spoke his voice was gentle. "I'm afraid though, what I am about to tell you, is likely to give you more questions than answers."

"What do you know?" asked Arthur insistently.

"We're dealing with very dark magic. The spell that would do as you described…there is only one such that I know of. It wipes a man from every mind as if he were never there, rewrites the memories with what would have been. It is the same world you know and lived in but without you in it."

Arthur thought a long moment. "You mean because for instance, with what really happened, Mordred was saved, so now he is still saved, but by Lancelot?"

"Yes. Without you saving him, Lancelot did."

"And," mused Arthur, thinking hard, "Without me there for Merlin to come to, Lancelot wasn't able to try out for the knighthood, so he never lied about being a noble, and was never found out and so didn't have to leave Camelot….which allowed him to still be there later when Mordred was caught."

Iseldir gave Arthur a strange look but Arthur was too distracted to notice, instead by this point he had gotten to his feet and begun to pace.

"And similarly," continued Arthur, "Without me, Morgana is all my father has, but as his heir she's probably seen another side of him…which is why when I saw them together, they seemed more content with each other. And," he continued, remembering something he had heard Gwen say while explaining why she had lied to Uther, "With Morgana closer to *him*, when Gwen's father was arrested…I always suspected it was Morgana who gave him the key…she didn't help him so he couldn't try an escape. His trial went through. And I'm sure if I went back to Camelot and asked I would be told he was executed. It is the world I know," he said, stopping to look Iseldir. "But as you say, without me in it."

Iseldir nodded.

"What?" Arthur looked at him; there was clearly something more the man had to say.

"Well you see," the druid said slowly. "This is very dark magic and only a very powerful sorcerer could have cast it. But you must understand this: it could not be cast on everyone. To wipe a man from history with magic…it could only be cast on one whose life was created with magic. From birth, or at any point in his life, if he were brought back from death."

"Created with magic?"

"Yes. A very dark deed, some of the blackest of magic. For life must be taken to create life. It the way it always is."

Arthur saw her in his mind's eye. The image of his mother. So beautiful, so sad. Seeing what he had yearned for a sight of since he first understood what a mother was. And in his mind he could hear her voice. Convicting his father of an act so heinous Arthur had nearly killed him for it.

It was true. It was all true. Merlin had been wrong. It hadn't been a lie at all. Morgause had spoken true.

AN: Sorry, the second half of this chapter might have been over heavy on exposition and I'm not even sure I was able to write the explanation that clear. With exposition I tend to go overboard and have everybody explain everything way to many times in too much detail so I tried not to have Iseldir go over the details to thoroughly but I think I may have gone too far in the other direction.