It took Merlin a while to get used to the fact that he was, indeed, home. For a while he had moments of doubt, thinking dangerous thoughts involving the possibility of a lying keeper or his own delirium. After much emotional trauma, he recovered and began to better adapt to his new method of communicating.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked one late morning as he strode into the room. Merlin was sitting at the bench beside Gaius and oddly had his hand stretched open over his mentor's mouth.

"Sire," Gaius said through Merlin's fingers. "Perhaps Merlin would like to tell you himself."

Merlin beamed after a short moment, eyes sparkling with joy as if he had heard Gaius's words. "Gaius is teaching me how to read lips," he explained, having guessed exactly what he had been prompted to do.

Arthur's eyes when wide and he hurried to sit beside the two. "How is it working?"

"Well," Gaius hummed through Merlin's digits, "I started out by writing what I was saying into one hand whilst he felt my lips with his other. Now, I'm fairly certain he should soon be able to read any man's words from but a touch of the mouth."

Merlin grinned, having understood what Gaius had said.

"May I try?" Arthur asked.

"That's up to Merlin," Gaius answered.

This time, Merlin's brow knitted up and he turned his head towards where he thought Arthur was sitting. Arthur smiled and repeated the question, this time spelling it onto Merlin's shoulder. The boy turned so quickly in his seat that Arthur nearly forgot he was blind. Before he knew it, Merlin's palm was to his lips and he held it close hesitantly.

"Simply talk as you would normally," Gaius advised.

Arthur nodded and swallowed. "Hello, Merlin."

Merlin grinned like a child as he answered, "Hello!" his voice wistful and light hearted.

Arthur let out a throaty laugh and Merlin laughed back upon feeling it vibrate up his throat. Gaius smiled and took Merlin's other hand, bringing it to his own mouth. "Merlin has been showing great skill in physical memorization, as well."

"What do you mean?"

Arthur caught Merlin smile at his obliviousness.

"He is able to walk about the room, having memorized its layout. I feel as though, with his remaining senses heightened, he may very well be able to do so with the majority of the castle."

"You're serious?" Arthur asked, his brow going up in shock.

"Indeed."

Arthur looked to Merlin again, wondering if it were truly in his best interest to have such a disabled man wondering the castle without said. But then he saw the look on Merlin's face. Though blind, his eyes could still shine with the warmth and want of being himself again. Arthur could not deny him that.

"Well let's get started, then," Arthur huffed, bringing Merlin to his feet, whilst holding his hand in place. "Merlin, get your boots on. They're by the stairs. We're going to take a little stroll."

Merlin muttered something too quiet to hear and pulled away from Arthur towards his room. He found his way effortlessly to the stairs and groped around for his boots. Arthur silently laughed as Merlin searched the wrong side of the stairs before he eventually ventured over to where his shoes were. He sat down on the bottom step and tugged them on.

"Arthur," Gaius addressed him, gaining his attention, "do be sure to keep an eye on him. He's been in this room for months."

"I understand that, Gaius," Arthur assured.

"It will be strange for him to relearn the castle. That, and I fear your people may be judgmental of him."

"On what grounds?"

"Well," Gaius said softly, "many people believe that the ability to hear and to see is directly connected to the ability to learn. Many may think him daft just by glance. I advise you to keep him close."

Arthur's expression turned serious for a moment. "Of course, Gaius."

Merlin joined them then, jacket shrugged into place and boots snug on his feet. Ready? Arthur spelled into Merlin's shoulder.

"Ready," Merlin replied with a nod, jittering with excitement.

Arthur took his arm and they ventured out the door. Merlin seemed to be concentrating on what his feet were doing, as if he were feeling out unsteady ground. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Arthur held his hand to his lips again.

"Where to first?"

"Your chambers."

Arthur froze for a moment. "Why?" he questioned.

"So I know the way," Merlin elaborated. "You never did sack me, you know. I intend to go back to work."

Arthur stopped Merlin and himself from walking onwards.

"What?" Merlin questioned.

"Merlin," Arthur said carefully, "I don't know how you expect to . . ."

"I won't be able to do everything, obviously," Merlin interrupted. "But, once I walk around a bit, I'll be able to clean and to ready you. Forgive me if your clothes don't perfectly match though. I'm not particularly good with colors." And the idiot grinned, satisfied with his own joke.

"Yes, but Merlin . . ." Arthur started, trailing off. "I'm not sure your place is to be a servant anymore."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, looking slightly hurt.

"What I mean is," Arthur stammered, "you're a bit . . . overqualified."

Merlin laughed which made the king even more confused. "So losing two of my senses makes me over qualified then, does it? Should the whole city start gouging their eyes out so they might become part of the royal household?"

"No," Arthur huffed, trying to mask a laugh. "I mean you've always been overqualified. Your magic, your talents, all of those stories you've told me; you can do far greater than serve me."

"No," Merlin said sternly, suddenly becoming serious. He even pulled his hand away. "No, serving you is the greatest thing I could do and I intend to do it in any and every way possible . . . and that includes washing your soiled socks!"

Arthur reached for Merlin's hand and traced his fingers into his palm. Fine, he wrote. Then, as Merlin allowed him, he brought his hand to his lips once more. "But you'll be a member of the council as well; an advisor to the king. And we'll have to change the laws of course."

For a moment, Merlin looked utterly shocked, eyes going wide and lips parting open. Then, he smiled, a wide, toothy grin, so big his eyes shut with the puff of his cheeks.

"Alright," Arthur sighed into slightly shaking fingers, "let's go before you start crying on me."

They continued walking; Merlin between Arthur and the wall, one hand on his master's arm and the other on the bricks, helping him recall his way around his home. It wasn't until the busybodies began to fill the halls that Arthur realized how different Merlin looked. Eyes seemed to stick to him as people walked pass through the corridors and, looking upon him then, Arthur could see why.

The boy's hair was a mess. It was long and unkempt, flippantly hanging about his lashes when it fell from being pushed back off his face. Gaius seemed to have shaved him, but not as frequently as he should have, leaving his chin and jaw grey and speckled. He still had the same ridiculous smile, but it was accompanied by blank eyes. He walked differently, his feet gliding along the path as if he were reading it.

They made it to Arthur's room with little interruption, save a few wild looks, and Arthur placed Merlin in the chair at his desk. He huffed, amused by Arthur's assistance. Then, he took in a deep breath and began one of his many stories. "You remember when I said that I was dying? After I had been missing for a few days? Well . . ."

And Arthur sat and Arthur listened. He paid his attention and he learned. Though he gathered bits of Merlin's life out of order, he fit them together into a new, separate story that was so outrageously heroic and powerful that it nearly felt impossible to relate it to his own tale.

When the story was finished and Arthur was left to piece them together with his own memories, the room was silent. Merlin leaned back in the chair and Arthur watched as his fingers slid up and down the smooth, finished wood. Arthur imagined that his fine, sanded chairs must feel rather boring as the lull dragged on.

"Well," Merlin sighed, "walk me about the room. I'll never memorize it sitting at your desk all day."

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood beside Merlin as he wondered his chambers with groping hands. He stuck to the walls at first, feeling for Arthur's nightstand, then his bed and his wardrobe. He passed over the door and eventually made his way to the fireplace, taking mental notes as he went along.

"This is far simpler than Gaius's rooms," Merlin commented as he shuffled his way towards the dining table in the center. "Not as much furniture or loose little things on the floor. I don't know what need the man has for so many stools. It's most commonly just him and me."

"Does that mean you know this place like the back of your hand now?" Arthur asked sarcastically, holding Merlin's hand to his face.

Merlin seemed confused for a moment, unable to hear Arthur's joking manner, but seemed to eventually assume the lighthearted air and elbowed the king in the side. "No," he huffed, fighting off a smile. "It won't take long though. And it better be clean while I'm learning it. The last thing I need is to trip over your trousers whilst trying to remember where the door is."

"Did you just tell me that I need to clean my rooms?" Arthur questioned. "Not moments ago I believe you specified that you were very keen on keeping that job."

"And I am," Merlin contorted, "just . . . not quite yet."

The door opened then and Arthur turned to find Gwaine standing in disarray, looking wide eyed at his friend. Arthur stepped forth to ask him what matter there was but the knight rushed past him and delivered Merlin a bone crushing hug, causing him to squeak and squawk in borderline terror and protest.

"Gwaine!" Arthur shouted. "Let him loose! He doesn't know it's you!"

"How couldn't he?" Gwaine jeered, strewing his arm over Merlin's shoulder with a sly grin. However, then he noticed the wide eyed look on Merlin's face and made a move to write on the boy's chest. He flinched before he could do so much as trace a letter and his eyes flashed gold, sending the knight and the king skidding across the floor, Gwaine flying until his head knocked into the far wall.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted in shock, jumping to his feet and striding over to aid Gwaine up off the ground. The knight groaned as he attempted to stand and Arthur made haste to try and explain Merlin's abilities to him. "Gwaine," he said, watching the emotions in his dazed eyes very carefully, "Merlin's been—"

There was a thump from behind him and he saw Merlin stumble onto his bottom, hands planted on the hard floor. His frightened expression spewed out a worried slur of, "Arthur," before his breathing became labored.

Arthur cursed. "Gwaine, stay there. That's an order." Then, he made his way back to Merlin and gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. He flinched away, but held out a cautious hand to the presence beside him, portraying relief when Arthur spelled his name into his palm. "It was only Gwaine," he spoke into Merlin's digits once he'd gotten a hold of them.

Guilt took over Merlin's face then. "Gwaine! Oh—I didn't—is he alright?"

"Yes, he's fine," Arthur assured, merely glancing over to see if he was, in fact, conscious. "You tossed him about a bit but I think he should be fine."

"That was . . ." Merlin breathed, barely audible. "I think . . . I'm sorry, Gwaine, I . . . Arthur . . ."

"Merlin?"

"I think . . . That was the first time I've used magic since . . ."

Arthur's eyes went wide in realization. "Are you alright?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"I don't . . . it feels weird," Merlin replied, looking only slightly nauseous.

Arthur was about to speak again when Gwaine's voice perpetrated the room. "It's fine," he grunted. "Don't worry about me. I've only been assaulted by a blind, magical, madman."

"Gwaine he's—"

Gwaine let out all sorts of gross, strained noises as he climbed to his feet, holding his head in his hand. "I truly couldn't care less, princess. I'm not exactly from Camelot, if you can recall. It's not the first time I've been thrown about by a friend, though never one as close and charming as this one."

"Charming?" Arthur huffed. "Gwaine you might've hit your head too hard. I'd hardly consider him—"

"Gwaine?" Merlin questioned as he felt the knight stagger closer, each movement vibrating through the floor.

The giddy man might have snorted and begun chatting up his friend at that moment, but the faraway look in his eyes said that something was wrong. "Should we be worried about this?" he asked Arthur. "His magic, has it . . . done something."

Arthur leaned in and whispered into Gwaine's ear, suddenly aware and very cautious of the open door. "He's more powerful than he looks," he muttered. "All that power; I would be surprised if there wasn't something wrong."

And so, the two of them hefted Merlin up off of the ground and steered him out the door. Merlin mumbled apologies and explanations the whole way there, even after Arthur had spelled that he should remain quiet. Gaius, seemingly unsurprised that they had gotten into mischief so soon, pulled up a chair for his ward when they arrived.

"Gwaine startled him and he sent him flying across the room," Arthur explained. "He said it was the first time he's used magic since he fell. He started acting strange after that."

Gaius hummed in thought.

"What do you think?" Gwaine asked. "Have any ideas?"

"I do, in fact," Gaius said after a short moment. He wondered over to one his work benches and began brewing up a potion as he explained. "Merlin is believed to be, by most of the Druids and other sorcerers alike, one of, if not the most powerful being of magic to have ever lived."

"What?" Arthur and Gwaine said in unison, both fairly blown away by the revelation.

Not missing a beat, Gaius continued as if he hadn't just delivered world shifting news. "He may have to learn new ways to channel his powers now that he cannot use visual or spoken aids. It sometimes comes as instinct to Merlin. He has, in past, done things as great as halt time on a mere whim as if it were nothing. But, that was before he had any mentoring, all of which was spell based. It would seem that, as disconnected from the world as he is, he may need to remaster some control over his powers."

"And what of his condition?" Arthur questioned

"Ah," Gaius said as he brought the finished remedy to his ward. "That, I believe, is merely due to the fact that he has not used his powers in so long a time." He handed Merlin the cup and wrote into the back of his hand that he should drink it. "His magic is different than other sorcerers'. He does not have to draw power from the earth. He has magic within himself, is composed of it actually. It's constantly brewing up inside of him. I assume it simply needed some sort of release. Stale magic, we could call it. It had been sitting anxiously inside him for some time. So, when he finally released it, it left him somewhat empty for a period."

"Are you saying that he's acting like this because there's not enough magic in him?" Arthur questioned incredulously.

"Indeed. Had he spent that stale power on something more monumental, he most likely would have fallen unconscious, as he has done in the past."

"Goodness," Arthur huffed. "There's so much I don't know . . . about magic and about him."

Gaius's lips formed a thin line and he averted his eyes. "That there is," he admitted.

"Well," Gwaine sighed, "it's still early. I think I might go out for a drink to numb up this head ach I've gotten."

"Gwaine," Arthur countered, "nothing in that sentence correlated with itself."

"Let me know when the lad wakes up, will you?" the knight asked, ignoring the king's statement. He flashed his teeth in a wide grin as he swung the door closed.

"So, what do we do for now?" Arthur asked, after rolling his eyes at Gwaine.

"Actually," Gaius, started, "all that needs to be done is—"

The clang of metal hitting the floor interrupted him and Arthur looked over to see that Merlin had dropped his cup and was sliding down in his seat, unconscious. "Merlin!" he called out, rushing to aid him, only to be stopped by Gaius's aged hand.

"I've given him a sedative, Arthur," Gaius assured. "All that needs to be done is to let him rest."

Arthur looked to Merlin's limp form hesitantly and looked to the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"He'll only need an hour or two. So, you can return later if you wish to resume your activities," the physician added.

"Alright," Arthur said, standing back up. Then, he lifted Merlin into his room for the old man before leaving, followed by a string of reassuring phrases from Gaius.

When Arthur returned, Merlin had already been awake for a good deal of time, having had lunch and conversed with Gaius. He was eager to go out again and Arthur took him willingly.

They did this. Every day Arthur would come and escort Merlin about the castle, telling him where they went so that he might memorize the patterns of the many winding corridors. Some days were dull, when they would find their way to a storage closet or a vacant chamber. Other days were exciting. Merlin took great interest in the vaults, which Arthur agreed to give him free access to, explaining to his king what each object was as he let his fingers glide over them.

"We're at the library now," Arthur said into Merlin's palm.

"Alright."

"Geoffrey says hello."

"Hello."

"What would you like to do?"

To his surprise, Merlin frowned.

"What is it?"

"The books," Merlin said softly, "I can't read them, can I?"

Arthur did not answer. Never before did he realize how much he truly caught Merlin reading. "I'm sure we could find someone to recite their contents."

Merlin allowed a small smile. "I'd like to look at them." When Arthur didn't reply out of confusion he continued. "Just run my fingers along the bindings, you know?"

"Alright," Arthur said with a shrug, "but I can't imagine why."

Arthur followed as Merlin strolled down the rows, hand gracing the rough, leather covers of the ancient texts. It did him no good to dwell on what he used to be able to do. He knew this, and yet he couldn't stop himself. He could overcome the speech barrier with Gaius's strange methods of teaching but there was no way that he could ever interpret a book on his own again. He would miss the strange sensation of reading; being told so much with no one present. No longer could he learn or receive without help. Already he missed the ability.

He stopped and pulled one from its place. It was bound with a red leather, intricate patterns pressed into its soft cover. "I know this one," he said to his king, opening the tome and sliding his digits across the musty page.

Arthur looked over his shoulder at the text. He watched as Merlin's fingers found the edge of the page and rubbed the old parchment between them.

"What does it say?"

The question caught him off guard, but he reached for Merlin's hand and told him. "It's an article on Devil's Breath. It seems to be mostly about protection and antidotes."

Merlin hummed and slowly closed the book. "Were there any illustrations?"

"Not on that page, no."

Again, he hummed. Once more, Arthur realized Merlin's hands going over the indents in the binding, like he seemed to do with everything. It intrigued him. As his mind churned with ideas and curiosities, Merlin spoke up.

"Let us wish Geoffrey a good day?" he suggested, turning to his king.

Arthur squeezed his servant's shoulder as if to encourage the notion and they began to file out of the shelves. As they emerged from the maze of books Geoffrey smiled at them. They bid their goodbyes. Merlin promised to visit despite his inability to actually use any of the books and Geoffrey promised that he was welcome.

"How are the lessons with Gaius going?"

"Which ones?" Merlin questioned, taking a seat by Arthur's dinner table.

"All of them."

Merlin sat back, letting Arthur's hand fall out of reach. "They're going well . . . I am having a bit of trouble with Gwaine and Leon, though. Their, uh, beards make it difficult to tell what they're saying sometimes. Gaius thinks I'll also be able to tell who people are by smell. I think I've got him and you down. Gwaine is definitely easy." The boy smiled.

Arthur chuckled at his truthfulness. How is it that I smell? he spelled into Merlin's knee.

Merlin huffed. "You . . . You smell metallic a bit, more so when you're wearing armor, obviously. I can usually smell your room on you, the fancy linens, the fragrance used on your royal bedsheets and clothes. And sweat. You definitely smell like sweat. It's gross at times."

Arthur let out a bark of a laugh.

"Gaius smells like herbs and potions. He's got a very simple, natural scent. Gwaine is just an overwhelming stench of mead and ale. It stings my nose sometimes, actually. I think I'm getting the hang of Gwen but I wouldn't trust myself to pick her out of a crowd just yet." He smiled and settled further into his chair. "The magic lessons are going well. They're much easier than anything else I'm practicing. I'm already almost back to normal, as far as my powers go."

Then, Arthur did something that startled Merlin, something he'd never imagine the man doing in his entire life. Show me, he wrote.

Merlin's eyes went wide and his expression went blank. "What?"

Arthur smiled and brought his chair closer, bringing Merlin's hand to his mouth. "Show me something; magic, I mean."

Teary eyed, Merlin nodded and reclaimed his hand. After a moment's thought he asked, "Do we have any water?"

Arthur stood and retrieved a small cup of water, placing it into Merlin's awaiting hand. He then sat eagerly across from his friend, leaning forwards and looking into the water expectantly.

Merlin took a deep breath and placed the cup between his knees. Then, he wrung out his hands and closed his eyes. "Hafocfugel," he murmured in a soft, hushed tone. Before the king's eyes, a drop of water seemed to break the pristine, smooth surface of the pool within; only, instead of dropping down into the mass of liquid, it appeared to emerge from within it. The droplet accumulated itself above the cup before it began to morph and shape until it took on the likeliness of a bird. Arthur came in close and marveled at how it moved, wings beating against the air, small beads of water splaying out behind their span. It was a hawk; a hawk of a specific breed. Arthur smiled knowingly and continued to watch it fly about his head.

"Arthur?" Merlin questioned, having been left with no response.

Distractedly, the king looked back to Merlin and slowly took his hand in his. Awe, he wrote, letting the boy know why he had stalled in his reaction. A jolt of excitement jolted through Merlin and he pressed his fingers to Arthur's lips. "I have never seen magic used for something so . . . good before."

Merlin smiled at him. "But you have," he said. "You just didn't know I was there."

Arthur watched his servant closely, observing as he seemed to hold back a smug expression. Then, the king let out a soft laugh. "You are right, my friend. I cannot be sorry enough. I should have noticed you . . . and, I think . . . I think that credit is due."