Merlin did end up accepting the room, though he rarely slept in it. He turned it into his own little study where he could safely store his magical artifacts and focuses, as well as begin proper research on the properties of different potions, enchantments, and spells. Gaius had even gotten him an array of corks for any vials or beakers he wished to store so that he could carve symbols or letters into the tops of them to make it easier to identify what each one was.

Months went by and things seemed to settle. Most people who objected to Merlin's new position or the peace made with magic simply ignored him or spread preposterous rumors that wiser men couldn't even think to believe. There were small incidents of course; occasion when people would try to trip the grand shaman or steal from him. Often they were terrified of Merlin, for sometimes he could sense their treachery and would swat their thieving hands away or step over their extended foot. Most mishaps seemed to cease altogether, however, when rumor claimed that he had been the one to vanquish Morgana.

Arthur was thankful that Merlin couldn't see the cautious and wary faces of some passersby. Though most citizens of Camelot seemed to praise Merlin's acts against the witch, many also feared him, wondering if he had killed her because he wished to be the one who ruled Albion. The king knew that this was far from the case, Merlin refusing to even talk about the possibility of him running a kingdom.

Surprising everyone but Gaius, Merlin seemed to forget that he was both deaf and blind, going about his day as any other abled man in Camelot. Gaius had said hopeful things in the beginning, going on and on about how Merlin would become accustomed to his disabilities, but it had seemed so hopeless at the time. Now, the boy was rushing about the castle as if nothing had changed. By now, people knew to keep an eye out for him, everyone stepping out of his way to be sure he had a clear path.

In fact, on one of those days, when he's fussing about, gathering things for himself and his king, he rushed down the halls, following a young, deaf boy through the halls. He had offered to help Merlin for the day, as many of the disabled children did; enjoying his company and gathering strength to battle their own loss of senses upon seeing Merlin's grand adaptations. They were headed to Gaius's quarters to receive a remedy for the queen, who was suffering from a terribly persistent headache.

Joseph, the boy, was running ahead a little, eager to meet with Gaius, who was kind to them and a newfound professional entertainer of small children.

Merlin could feel the boy passing ahead of him and smiled at his eagerness. He picked up his pace some so that he wouldn't be too far behind, but didn't hurry too much, knowing that running wasn't the best idea when you couldn't see where you were going.

However, he was still walking far too fast to stop himself from hustling right smack into someone. Bumping against a built chest, he stumbled backward. "Sorry, sorry. I was—Joseph ran ahead and I—"

Something hard collided with his jaw and he faltered on his feet before regaining his balance. He furrowed his brow. "What are you—"

Again, he was shoved in the chest by a prodding finger. He held one hand to his throbbing bruise and extended the other with hopes of communication. "Please, I—"

A large, firm hand grasped his wrist and twisted it. He cried out before being thrown to the ground. A foot planted itself on the center of his chest and he grunted, trying to lessen the pressure by holding the boot up off of his flesh. "Get off," he wheezed, but all that was returned was more pressure.

Then, suddenly the weight was removed and he was left breathless on the floor. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, he sat up, leaning against the wall.

Someone gripped the hems of his jacket and made him jump, but these hands were small and frantic. "Joseph," he whispered in relief, hugging the boy close, trying to subdue the worried rumble of words he could feel through the child's tiny chest. "It's alright," he soothed, wishing to calm him before finding out what had happened.

"Stop!" Arthur shouted, instantly racing towards the man who had thrown his servant to the ground. His heart pounding with rage, he approached the visiting noble.

"Ah! Arthur!" Lord Hankin called. "You're just in time! This subsequent whelp just plowed right through me! Then, he had the nerve to—"

"Hankin!" the king bellowed, the fire in his chest rising as his eyes lit up with fury.

"Milord?" the noble questioned, genuinely confused at his highness's outburst.

"Are you aware of whom exactly you are treading on?"

It was then that Merlin tried to remove the burden from his breast. "Get off."

Lord Hankin scowled down at him, pressing his boot into his ribs. Then, his frown remained as he looked back up at Arthur. "The palace fool?"

Arthur looked around, biting his lip. By now, a cluster of servants and a select few knights had stopped in their daily rush, afraid to interrupt the confrontation. Merlin let out a soft wheeze and the king was suddenly aware of how much pressure Lord Hankin was putting onto Merlin. Anger flared anew inside of him and he kicked the lord in the shin before putting himself between Hankin and his shaman.

Lord Hankin cursed and regained his footing. "What is the meaning of this?"

Arthur squared up to him, looking down his nose at the suddenly wary eyes of Hankin. "That fool you just harassed is the most powerful sorcerer in all the five kingdoms and you should count yourself lucky that he is a gentle minded man else he could have had you pressing that boot into your own chest and through your heart more swiftly than the finest blade," Arthur spat, nodding down to the leather shoe that had been pressing down on the lad in question.

His ego having shriveled down to nothing, the man babbled for a moment before sputtering a nonsensical apology. Arthur held his hand up, having none of it. "Guards, let us see how fine his linens truly are by seeing if they can keep from fraying whilst being pelted with varying arrays of rotted fruits."

Percival and another guard smirked as they took up the lord by his arms and escorted him to the stocks. The ignorant noble spouting accusations mingled in with halfhearted clemencies all the way.

The king turned instantly to Merlin once Hankin was taken care of, finding him with an armful of a tearful Joseph. Arthur knelt down beside them, placing a hand on either of their shoulders. Merlin stilled and loosened his hold on the boy. He clasped his head in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye after rubbing away a few stray tears. "I am fine, Joseph," he whispered, knowing that he could read lips if he spoke animatedly enough. "Go on ahead and tell Gaius that we are coming."

Arthur watched as the boy tugged at Merlin's sleeve, bringing his hand to his mouth. "I'm sorry," he cried, far too loud and barely coherent. "I ran ahead! I'm sorry, sorry!"

Merlin pressed a finger to his lips. "It is not your fault," he promised. "Go on."

Reluctantly, the boy climbed out of his lap and scurried past the small crowd to alert the physician of his oncoming company.

Then, Merlin turned to Arthur, holding out his hand. "What happened?" he asked, knowing it was the king who had knelt beside him.

"Lord Hankin," Arthur ground out into Merlin's fingers. "He's only here to discuss border disputes between him and Diot. He didn't seem to know about you; probably had his head stuck too far up hi—"

"What did you do?"

"Since he disgraced you, I treated him just a lowly."

"Meaning?" Merlin questioned, taking a deep breath.

"He's in the stocks for the time being. A suitable punishment, I think."

Despite being blind, Merlin still had one deadly glare. Not even managing to aim his eyes directly at Arthur, the king could still see the disapproval clearly in his expression.

"Don't look at me like that," Arthur huffed. "You know I could have done worse." He looked Merlin over, noting the fresh bruise on his jawline and the way he stressed to breathe. "We better get you do Gaius, have him look you over."

The king stood back and gave Merlin a hand in standing. "I'm fine," he wheezed, stumbling slightly as he righted himself. Despite his claim, he allowed Arthur to escort him to the physician's chambers without breath of protest.

When they arrived, Gaius was coddling a red faced Joseph, who seemed to finally have calmed down. Gently coaxing the boy into sitting aside, Gaius looked over Merlin with a trained eye.

"He might be off balance for a few hours," Gaius told Arthur, "and his jaw will be sore, for sure. Otherwise, he should be fine."

"That's good to hear," Arthur replied.

Merlin let out a small laugh and the king turned to see him help Joseph up into his lap. Gaius walked passed him and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"I was coming to fetch a remedy for Gwen's headache," Merlin said, seeming to have suddenly remembered.

Arthur scoffed and shook his head. The boy truly lacked concern for himself.

Gaius squeezed his shoulder in reply before rummaging through his cabinets for some relief. He brought it back to Merlin before turning to Arthur once more.

"Take Joseph home, if you will. I'll keep Merlin here to rest for the remainder of the day."

"You know best," Arthur huffed before coaxing Joseph out of Merlin's hold, explaining to him that his mother would be expecting him soon. He cringed as he realized that he would have to tell to the woman what had happened during his time with Merlin. He doubted she would allow him to visit ever again. Silently, he promised to do his best in persuading her in letting him return.

Joseph was eventually permitted to take his place by Merlin's side and Arthur was glad to hear that he was even considering making him his apprentice. From what he could tell, however, Joseph had no signs of being able to use magic, but Merlin believed that he would excel in the medical arts. He'd have to wait until the boy was older, of course, but, until then, it was a pleasure to have him around.

Arthur decided that he would be incredibly judgmental of anyone who abused or manipulated Merlin in any way. After Lord Hankin left the city, the king held a feast in spite of him, claiming it was, in fact, being held in celebration of the healthy crops that season.

On one particularly humid day in Camelot, Arthur awoke with an aching head. He messaged his temple as he sat up, noting that it was a bit late and that Merlin should have come to wake him by now.

Stretching, he lumbered across the room to the door to his antechamber, which was between Merlin's chambers and his own. After passing through the vacant room, he found his shaman, sat in his strange looking chair, facing the window.

He made to sure that his feet fell heavily with each step so that Merlin would feel him coming. With luck, he did so and smiled. "Arthur," he said, "I was just about to come and wake you."

The king came from behind him and took his hand from the arm rest. "You're late," he spoke into it.

Merlin huffed. "Did you expect me to be on time? When have I ever?"

Arthur laughed quietly. Then, he looked down to Merlin's other hand and the way it kept tracing one of the carvings. He leaned forwards to get a better look. "A bear?" he noted into Merlin's hand.

His fingers stopped and hovered over the incisions as a small smile played its way onto his lips. "Yeah," he replied. "A bear . . . It's my favorite one."

Arthur smiled but, before he could say anything more, the warning bell rang.

Merlin tensed as he felt Arthur grip his hand. "What is it?"

The door to his chambers was thrown open, the clash of it against the wall making Merlin jump. Gwaine stood in the entrance, eyes wide. "Arthur!"

"What's happened, Gwaine?" the king asked. Merlin could feel him turn towards the door through the way his hold on his wrist shifted.

"It's Agravaine," Gwaine panted, "we found him."

Arthur released Merlin's hand and strode across the room. "By whom?"

"Sirs Leon and Gaheris," he reported. "They haven't—"

"What is happening?" Merlin demanded from across the room, having stood and faced the door. His expression was determined, but Arthur could tell he was struggling to keep his composure. The king bit his lip, feeling guilty for leaving Merlin in the blind.

He looked to Gwaine and they exchanged culpable glances. Then, Arthur returned to his shaman and look up his hand. "They found Agravaine," he whispered.

Merlin froze, letting his hand fall back to his side. With a shaking voice, he said, "What?"

Arthur fought the urge to pace as he waited for Leon to bring the prisoner before the throne. Gwen worried at her lip beside him, palms clammy with nervousness. Merlin stood a ways to his right, Elyan holding his hand to his lips, ready to act as his interpreter when the company arrived.

The grand doors slowly opened as Leon dragged a bound and gagged Agravaine into the hall. Forced onto his knees, the haggard man looked up at the king through stringy hair. His eyes widened at the sight of Merlin alive and breathing. He began to struggle in his restraints, but Leon gripped his arm with such force that he winced and relented.

"Remove his gag," Arthur ordered. He glanced to his side to see if Elyan was performing his duties correctly. To his expectation, the knight had begun to whisper the goings on into Merlin's fingers.

Leon tore the cloth from the man's mouth and he spit at the floor. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving with great effort.

The king looked down at his wild eyes, giving him a disgraceful stare. "Sir Leon," he prompted.

"He was on the border, sire," he reported. "We found him traveling between Camelot and Lot's land."

"Lot's land is far north, is it not?" Arthur questioned.

Leon shook his head. "Lot invaded Cenred's land after his death. He reigns there now, milord."

Arthur nodded. "Of course. Desperate for another alliance, Agravaine?"

"No, my liege," Agravaine denied, shaking his head frantically. "I only wished to seek housing there, I swear on it."

Arthur considered him. It was clear that, without his mistress, the man was nothing. He was afraid of Arthur now, having no influence over him any longer. "Are you aware of the crimes you have committed against my kingdom?"

"Crimes, milord?"

"Indeed," Arthur said as he began to pace. "You, Agravaine, are charged with treason for conspiring with a known enemy of Camelot as well as making an attempt on the life of my men, Merlin, and I."

"It was in Morgana's bidding, milord! I myself intended no ill will! You must consider this, I beg of you!" Agravaine pled, eyes crazed and petrified.

"And what is it that Morgana had held over your head that tempted you so wholly to betray your kingdom?"

"It was—it was my life! Milord!"

It wasn't difficult to call his bluff. Arthur raised a brow. "Was it?"

"I would not lie to you now, milord," the defendant breathed.

"Regardless," Arthur said, entirely aware of the man's lies, "I cannot excuse the crimes that have been committed."

"All I can ask is for some mercy, milord," Agravaine whimpered.

Arthur paused in his pacing, stopping to face the accused. "Perhaps," he offered, "if you told me the truth of your betrayal."

Agravaine visibly deflated. "How so, milord?"

"What is it that Morgana used to hold sure to your loyalty?"

The guilty hung his head. "She bribed me, milord."

"With what?" Arthur demanded.

"Herself," he replied in a low, shameful voice.

Arthur's brow furrowed. "What . . . ?"

"As I recall, sire," Merlin spoke suddenly, "Morgana was of admirably fair skin and stature."

"What of it?" the king questioned.

He looked pointedly at Merlin, waiting for Elyan to finish reciting his words to him, but the boy merely gulped and hung his head, unwilling to elaborate. He then turned to Gwen, who had a horrified look on her face. Suddenly feeling nauseous as he understood the implications of Merlin's words, he looked back at the demented man before him, fining his dark eyes boring into his image.

Clenching his fists, he looked away from him. "Put him in the dungeons. He will find out his fate come morning."

Shaken, Agravaine let the guards take him away.

The sky was still grey as the haggard man was led out to the chopping block. The crowd was alive with whispers of what had happened to the trustworthiness the king's uncle once held. The kingdom's rulers and their shaman stood above on the high terrace, observing the scene. Arthur held Merlin's hand in his, ready to signal to him when the axe fell.

Surprisingly, Agravaine accepted defeat, seeming to have lost all hope upon receiving his sentence. He knew of his wrongdoing and, without a sorceress to draw him back to safety, there was no point in fighting. He had no advantage. The battle was lost.

The kingdom seemed to hold its breath as the executioner lifted his blade, leaving it hanging in the air for a long, exhilarating moment. Then, Arthur crushed Merlin's hand in his as the axe came down upon the traitor's neck, the resounding thud echoing through the city before giving in to a silence as absolute as Merlin's world had become.

"That's . . . not what I'm wearing tonight," Arthur said, stepping towards where Merlin was holding out a rather worn, hideous robe. Arthur took it from his hands, causing the boy's brow to furrow, before replacing it with his newly tanned jacket.

Merlin, realizing his mistake, blushed and proceeded to help Arthur into it. They were preparing themselves for a spring feast, celebratory of the time of rebirth.

Arthur finally pulled his gloves snug around his fingers before taking Merlin's arm and leading him out to meet Gwen in the corridor so they might walk to the feast together. In companionable silence they strolled through the halls, both queen and king with an arm hooked about one of Merlin's elbows.

They arrived to an audience of thankfully cheery faces and the aroma of fine foods. Merlin's mouth watered as he was seated before the feast, stomach turning with anticipation.

After a few minutes, once everything was settled, Arthur tapped Merlin twice on his left shoulder, prompting him to stand and hold out his glass for a toast. He waited, with his hand outstretched and Arthur's grip warm on his shoulder, reciting the toast Arthur had relayed onto him the night before inside his mind; a speech of oaths and good health. Only once the king's hand left his shoulder did he bring his goblet to his lips.

He froze, the edge of the cup pressed against his lips as a shiver ran up his spine. He stuck his hand out to his side, grasping franticly for his master's glass.

"Merlin, what—"

The warlock found the goblet and placed his hand over the brim, stopping Arthur from taking a sip. "That's not wine," he whispered.

Startled, Arthur smelled his drink. Brow furrowed, he turned to Gwen, who thankfully had not taken a sip out of concern. Taking up Merlin's hand, he said, "Merlin, it smells fine." He glanced around at the others present in the hall, most of which were too busy celebrating to notice the turmoil at the head of the table.

"No, it doesn't," Merlin hissed insistently.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Arthur sought out Gaius. Finding the physician's eye, he noticed that the old man had been watching their wary conversation and beckoned him forth.

"What is it, sire?" he asked.

"Merlin thinks there's something wrong with the wine."

Gaius took the glass from his king and sniffed it. "There doesn't seem to be anything foreign in the drinks."

Arthur huffed. The king still having his hand up to his mouth, Merlin felt it. "Someone's done something to it, I know it. It smells . . . It just doesn't smell like wine, alright?"

Sharing a concerned look with Arthur and Gwen, Gaius dipped the tip of his finger into the drink and brought it to his lips. Lapping up the single drop, he started, looking at Merlin with bewilderment.

"What is it, Gaius?" Arthur questioned. Merlin tensed.

"It's monkshood, sire."

"You're sure?"

"Positive, but the scent of the wine should have deluded it. Merlin, how did you—?"

"We need to tell the people to drop their drinks!" Gwen interrupted with great urgency, turning to face the audience.

"And you're sure no one else was poisoned?" Arthur questioned.

"Yes, milord," Gaius answered. "All of the drinks were checked. The only traces of it were in your cups."

"Good . . . What about Merlin?"

"What about him, sire?"

"How did he smell the monkshood? You said—"

"It is my belief, sire, that Merlin's senses of smell, taste, and touch have been heightened."

"How so?"

"There have been accounts of men going blind only to find that their hearing has improved. It's commonly thought to be because the mind no longer has to focus on the sense of sight and so is able to strengthens the remaining senses."

"So Merlin has . . . magic nostrils . . ."

A bemused smile crept onto Gaius's face. "If you wish to put it that way."

Arthur scoffed. "Leave it to him . . ."

"I'm back," Merlin said as he walked into the room.

Arthur met him and touched his arm to let him know that he was there.

"They found her," he told them. "It was a witch whose grandmother was killed during the Purge. She said we did too little too late."

"We couldn't have done anything back then," Arthur spoke into Merlin's hand.

"I know . . ." Merlin cleared his throat before taking a seat alongside his king and his mentor. He smiled at Gaius, suddenly catching the scent of worn books and stale herbs.

"We were just children . . ." Arthur mused absentmindedly into Merlin's fingers.

"I'm tired of people blaming you for what your father did," Merlin huffed.

"All they want is someone to blame, Merlin. With the criminal gone, all they have left to take their anger out on is us."

"They should be taking it out on Morgana. She prolonged Uther's hatred and . . . kept yours intact."

Arthur cringed. Merlin felt it.

"Sorry."

"No grudges here," Arthur amended.

Gaius reached for Merlin's free hand then, bringing it to his old, dry lips. "Regardless of what the people say now, there will always be those who do not agree with you."

"Even when we're right," Merlin cut in.

Gaius continued as though he hadn't heard. "As long as the two of you – and Guinevere – hold no future qualms then all that can be done has been done. There's no telling what that future may hold; that is, until you decide what you want to do with it."

Merlin harrumphed, having heard plenty enough destiny talk in his time to let the words pass over him. Arthur, however, pondered these musings of the days to come. Looking down at his ferociously stubborn friend – who kept on kicking despite being left for dead, betrayed, and stricken deaf and blind – and smiled. Arthur would hold no qualms regarding his future decisions, especially considering what he had in plan for his dearest friend.