Without any ado…

Merlin wasn't sure what that whole magic-repression cell thing was about, but he had a feeling he didn't want to find out personally whether or not it actually worked. He waited for Arthur to walk away, first, because if push came to shove, he might have to use magic. And no matter which Arthur he was facing, he didn't want to have to reveal himself to the prince.

And he had a feeling the other Merlin might not to be too crazy about the idea either.

The guards had him halfway to the dungeons before he decided it was safe enough to fight back.

Stopping suddenly, he threw himself backwards, against their forward motion. The guards jerked in surprise and tried to fix their grip, but Merlin twisted his arms and pulled, managing to slip from their grasp. He knew he only had seconds before they grabbed him again, so, with only a small pang of remorse, he threw out a hand to bespell them into next week—perhaps literally.

They grabbed their swords, and he opened his mouth, but before he could say a single word, something hit him. A pain, not as sharp as it should have been, splintered through the back of his head and neck.

Ouch, he thought, and crumpled, the world going black.

Behind him, the prince sheathed his sword, rubbing the hilt gingerly to see if he'd damaged it on Merlin's head. "I had a feeling he'd try something," said Arthur, smiling proudly.

And as the guards leaned over to collect the boy's unconscious body, Arthur said in as conspiratorial a tone as he ever used, "I've been wanting to do that forever."

The guards were not amused, because guards lacked senses of humor. They simply looked to Arthur for instruction.

"Take him to the cell," commanded the prince.

When Merlin awoke, he'd discover that the cell worked quite well indeed.

Smiling, Arthur turned to walk off and go spend the rest of the day as he saw fit. He'd talk to his father, get some paperwork done, and perhaps later see if he could corner Guinevere… Today was a very good day indeed!

\-_-BREAK-_-/

"They didn't even chain me up," the other Merlin griped as he paced the cell. "It's an insult!"

"It's the way they do things," said Old Merlin, who'd popped by for a short visit. Quite literally. He was now on the inside of the cell with the other Merlin, leaning against the bars comfortably as if this place was his second home.

"They're imbecilic."

"So are you, if you think you can kill my charge that easily." Old Merlin said with a glare.

"It was worth a try," Merlin defended himself with a wry smile.

"I think they reserve this cell especially for me—you—him, that is, I suppose." Old Merlin studied the straw-strewn floor with real affection. "The first night I spent it in here was the first day I came to Camelot."

Merlin ignored that comment quite expertly. "But don't they know that any sorcerer could break out of here easily?"

"You haven't," said Old Merlin with a sort of smirk that reminded Merlin of this world's Morgana, but more mischievous. But then, he'd seen her smirk eighty-seven times since he came here (he'd counted, yes), and any kind of smirk reminded him of her. She'd really ruined the facial expression for him; he could never use it again.

"That's because you're using your magic to stop me, old man," growled the younger man.

"I really don't think I'm doing that at all," said Old Merlin, smiling serenely. "Perhaps you are imagining it."

"I'm not."

"Are you sure?"

"Rather," replied Merlin coldly, unwilling to get into a fight with an eighty-year-old—and absolutely refusing to lose his temper with one. Sure, an eighty-year-old that was more powerful than he was… But then, considering this man was like a mirror reflection of Merlin with sixty years more of studying and training, it made sense.

"Interesting," chuckled Old Merlin. "Well, it's a rather good idea, isn't it? Would keep you from breaking out and going after the prince."

"Or escaping. I hope you aren't trying to get me killed. You wouldn't be the first, but as you can see, I'm still here."

"Yes, I'm sure. No, I'm not trying to get you killed, boy. If I were you, though, which in a way…" Here he stopped to chortle. "In a way, I am… I would stop trying to escape and focus my magic on healing that gash on the side of my head from Gwen's pot."

Merlin lifted a hand to the sticky mess. "She has good aim in both worlds."

"She's not someone you want angry with you, in my opinion." Old Merlin smiled reminiscently. "I remember her being rather feisty when it came to Arthur."

Merlin said nothing. He'd never cared for feisty women. His mother was feisty, and he'd never really liked her. His own Gwen was alright, but Morgana hadn't a "feisty" bone in her rather airheaded body. She didn't argue much either. Sometimes he thought he really loved that woman.

"Well," said Old Merlin, "if you'll excuse me."

"Where are you going?" asked Merlin suspiciously, sitting with grace down upon the floor of the cell and looking up through his hair at Old Merlin.

"To teach the prince and my younger self a lesson," said Old Merlin. "I'm sure about now your counterpart is ready to murder me for leaving him in that world so long."

He's the lucky one, thought Merlin, to his own surprise.

Out loud he said, "So you're just going to leave me here, then?"

"Don't worry," said Old Merlin. "You're not going to get killed. I just can't let you escape. I'll be back soon!"

And with that, his eyes flashed gold and he was gone. BANG!

The first thing Merlin did was check to see if the old man's magic was still wrapped around the walls, keeping him inside. It was.

Then he slumped back and sighed. Crazy old codger.

\-_-BREAK-_-/

Arthur and Gwen hadn't said anything for a while after they watched Merlin taken away by the guards. There hadn't been much to say, really.

Eventually she'd gone and cleaned up the shattered pot pieces.

"I'll buy you a new one," Arthur told her. "Since that one may have saved my life."

Usually she'd turn that down, but she needed to cook to eat. "Thank you." She studied the shards. "I hope it didn't pierce his head."

There was a moment of awkward silence while Arthur nodded in a sort of half agreement and they both realized what a very silly thing to say that had been.

"Maybe he's enchanted," she suggested.

Arthur shrugged. "I've never seen an enchantment that allowed the person under the spell to use magic."

"Me neither. I'm not sure that's possible."

"I don't think it is," he told her, and they lapsed into silence again.

She disposed of the shards. He sat on his bed, staring around the room as though lost, and after a moment she sat next to him and patted his arm. She shivered when she got cold (for she realized that she was only in the thin shift she used for nightclothes), and decided it was probably time for her to go home. But before she could move, Arthur jumped up to offer her a large shirt that had never fit him to put over her night clothes.

"I could just go—" she started to say, but then looked at his eyes and realized that he didn't want her to leave. So she accepted the shirt.

He sat down beside her again, still without a shirt—while she had two. The thought made her want to giggle.

"I wonder how he managed to hide so long," Arthur wondered out loud.

And then the worst thought of the night hit Gwen. "Oh, Arthur, what will we tell Gaius?"

And after that, they realized there was nothing more to be said on the nasty subject, and so she went to her own house so they could both be by themselves while they recovered from the shock of Merlin just used magic and tried to kill Arthur.

It was a short while later, when Arthur had gotten back into bed and was moving past his shock, into wondering what they would do with Merlin now that he'd been arrested, and thinking that he should probably talk to Merlin to find out what the hell that had been about. As he lay there, thinking, there was a BANG, and Arthur knew someone else was in the room.

Perhaps he should have been startled. Perhaps he should have grabbed his sword and yelled for guards again. Perhaps he should have attacked, or hollered. But his best friend and servant had just attacked him with magic, and he was feeling rather curiously uncaring about everything else at the moment. So he simply sat up, looked into the darkness, and focused on the figure.

The figure was currently using magic to light the candles of the room, lightening everything.

"You," said Arthur, wondering why he wasn't surprised.

"Me," agreed the man happily. "Dragoon the Great, to you, I believe."

"What do you want?"

The old man shrugged. "To teach you a lesson. You and your servant, Merlin."

Arthur was too tired for sorcerers. He had a distant feeling that he should be calling the guards on this man. He felt tired. Didn't Gaius say people felt tired when they were in shock? Or had Gaius never said that?

"It's not really a good time for that," said Arthur, slipping out of bed and reaching for his shirt. It didn't look like he was sleeping much tonight. But he left his feet bare. "In case you missed it, my servant just tried to kill me and he's currently locked up."

"That isn't your servant," Dragoon said, and Arthur felt the tiniest bit of hope stirring in his heart.

"What do you mean?"

"The man in the dungeons is not the Merlin you know."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Where is Merlin?"

"He's not here," answered Dragoon, smiling, and Arthur had the impulse to hit him, but that just wasn't very princely, so he restrained himself.

"I can see that. I want to know where he is." He tilted his head to the side for a moment and reached for his sword. "What did you do to him?" Perhaps they wouldn't have to tell Gaius anything at all.

"I moved him a bit," said Dragoon. "Almost like a vacation."

Arthur's sword was now in his hand and pointed in the man's general direction. "I'm not joking," he said. The man ignored the sword, but stayed back.

"That's well, because this is not really a joke," Dragoon suddenly sounded grave. "I'm afraid you and Merlin both have a bit of a lesson to learn—he about you, and you about… How you treat your servants." He smiled at that wording. Arthur missed what was so funny. "Though perhaps," said Dragoon, "you've learned your lesson."

Arthur was confused all over again.

"I don't see what nearly being killed is good for if it doesn't teach you anything," Dragoon added. "So, are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"To go to Merlin, didn't we cover that? Your Merlin that is. Not that he's strictly yours of course, but it's easier to think of them that way. It gets confusing otherwise."

"I don't understand."

"I'll explain a bit more when we get there."

"Where?" Arthur snapped. "Where is it you want to take me? You're a sorcerer, so what do you want with me?"

Dragoon looked very old and very doddery for a moment. "I want to take you to rescue your servant. He's not going to be able to escape without you."

"Where is he?"

"I told you, I'll explain when we get there."

Arthur glared suspiciously, and Old Merlin thought that if he kept that up, he might actually pass for the other prince. "Are you trying to trick me?" asked Arthur.

"No," said Dragoon. "What reason would I have to lie?"

"I don't know yet."

"I just want to help you get to your servant."

"But why?"

Dragoon sighed, his white beard shifting as he did so. "Because I like the Merlin boy, alright? I'll leave you alone as soon as you do it."

He held out an old, wrinkly hand to shake. Arthur's sword lowered as he looked at the hand and thought about it.

I shouldn't, he thought. But if he can lead me to a Merlin that won't pin me with magic and talk like a madman about trying to kill me, then I will do it anyway.

And he shook the old man's hand.

BANG!

And before Arthur could pull away from the old man's clutching hand, the whole world disappeared.