Across the castle, Gaius was in his tower, grinding marigold petals in his mortar. It had been just a week, but already his arthritic hands had gotten used to letting Merlin do the hard labor. Neither they nor his mind had quite processed the fact that Merlin wasn't there to do it.

The old physician was staring blankly at the crushed yellow leaves, not really thinking about much of anything. In fact, he was probably putting the most effort into tuning out the voice of Morgana. The fine young woman sat on the dining bench, almost in the same exact spot that Merlin had been sitting that morning. Though the boy had been cramming porridge into his mouth desperately, in a rush to get to Arthur's bedchamber before the prince woke up. Morgana, however, couldn't seem to keep anything behind her lips. She had come to Gaius's apothecary a few hours ago, delivering the news of Merlin's arrest. When the tale had been told, Gaius hadn't been sure how to respond. He still wasn't sure.

But Morgana seemed to be full of answers and suggestions. She had mentioned helping Merlin escape three or four times before Gaius stopped listening. He was fairly certain she hadn't spoken of anything different since. It wasn't so much that Gaius didn't want to do anything. It was more that he didn't think anything could be done. He'd told Merlin countless times not to get caught, to keep his head low. Not for the first time, he doubted Merlin even understood what "lying low" meant.

Glass shattered and Gaius looked up from the mortar to see Morgana now standing across from him. One of his glass jars lay shattered at her feet, its purple, liquid contents seeping into the porous stone floor. "Morgana," he said with a sigh. "That was a very difficult concoction to make. It required very rare ingredients." The woman's eyes flared.

"Really? That's your response? You're more upset about a jar than your apprentice's arrest! You—you—you old cud—you despairing lunatic—you—"

"Morgana," a voice interrupted. Arthur stood in the doorway of Gaius's chambers, barely inside, as if he wasn't sure he could tread into such a place. "I don't think you need to tell Gaius how he feels."

"How he—!" Morgana's anger was torn now. "He's done nothing but grind that dumb dust for the past hour!" she yelled, throwing her hands on her hips. "And you! What have you accomplished? Did you get the boy out?" Arthur's face confirmed Morgana's assumption. "I didn't think so!" she yelled. "You men, you demand all the power, all the respect, and you can't even use it properly!"

"Morgana," Arthur interrupted again. "You need to relax."

"He's your manservant, Arthur! You're the one that threw the knife at him! Don't you feel the slightest bit guilty? You've known him a week, and how many times has he saved your life already? Don't you dare deny he has! I don't care if you dislike him or not, you have no right to just abandon him!"

"Morgana!" Arthur yelled, finally stepping inside the room. Guinevere was with him, and Gaius nearly smiled. So, he mused to himself, there's a bit of our prince's courage. The young and chivalrous always did need a bit of prompting from a disheartened, if perfectly capable, damsel.

Morgana finally reined in her voice, and with the room silent, Arthur took a moment to clear his throat and adjust his belt. Then, his voice hiding the nerves his eyes didn't fail to portray, he said, "Alright, I have a plan. We're going to break Merlin out of the dungeons."

"Finally," Morgana exclaimed in exasperation.

"Oh, dear," Gaius added, offering his opinion openly for the first time that afternoon.

Along the top edge of Merlin's cage, barely two foot-lengths wide and not even one high, with three iron bars stretched across it, was a window. It was too high up for Merlin to really see out of—even if he stood on the wooden slat bed he could barely reach the bars. It wasn't as if there was much to be seen, anyways. The window only looked out onto the training grounds of the castle, perhaps a bit ironically, to the very area where the young sorcerer had unintentionally reshaped destinies. If Merlin could look out of it, he would be eyelevel with the grass; he would be able to see the training horses stomp their feet, the ends of their tails flick and lift. He'd see leather boots and draperies of chainmail that every knight and trainee wore. He'd see the footprints every living thing was leaving in the mud as they wandered around on the surface of the earth, like the free men and women and animals they were.

But in order to avoid filling his last hours with bitterness, Merlin had decided not to try and look out the window. He, instead, sat with his back at the wall, the plate of bread (now empty) off to his right, and his legs stretched out lazily in front of him. All he allowed the window to be was an occasional burst of air and wind, but while it may have entered the dungeon fresh, by the time it reached Merlin's nose, it was as stale and morose as Arthur's boots. Merlin chuckled to himself. I wonder who the prat will get to clean them now…

Merlin was so curious about this question that he almost didn't notice the decidedly not-air, not-wind thing that came through the small window. It didn't make a sound as it landed half on the wood bed, its weight and momentum causing it to slide with gravity to the floor. It was this movement, the one in which the item folded in on itself, that Merlin caught out of the corner of his eye, and, intrigued, he leaned over. Gracelessly, he snatched the item off the floor and inspected it as he rolled back to his position against the wall.

In his hands was a silky black cloak, soft and warm. And, it smelled of lilies.

"Fantastic," Merlin said to the air. "At least I get to die smelling pretty."

But, honestly, he liked the fact that someone was thinking of him.

Night had finally fallen and Merlin was nodding off, his head resting uncomfortably against the end of the wooden slats he was meant to be sleeping on. He used the inexplicable cloak practically—as a blanket, covering his arms and his tucked knees. He was lucidly dreaming of a reality in which he was home, in fact he had never left home, and his mother was baking something that smelled absolutely delicious. The house, however, was starting to smell a bit too much like smoke. Perhaps she had forgotten she was cooking? He needed to warn her, the smell was getting thicker and thicker— "Mum," he called out, only to receive no answer. "Mum!" he called again.

"Merlin!" a voice echoed to him.

"Mum, you forgot—something's—"

"Mum? Ugh! Merlin!" Something hit hard against Merlin's knee and he woke with a start, the smell of smoke still thick around him. He pulled the cloak up to his nose, but then replaced it with the sleeve of his tunic when it became clear that the powerful scent of lilies was just as likely to incapacitate him as the smoke. "Merlin!"

Squinting, Merlin looked up. His right arm's sleeve held against his nose and his left at his side, Arthur stood just beyond the bars. Unrestrained annoyance shown in his eyes.

"Arthur!" Merlin said, surprised, before coughing a bit at the smoke that filled his throat.

"Prince Arthur. And why on earth were you sleeping at a time like this?" the prince asked. Merlin blinked.

"Should I have been doing something else?" he asked.

"How about using that magic of yours to bust the lock!" Arthur scoffed. Again, Merlin just blinked. He had thought about that, but—

"You mean to escape?" he asked.

"No, I mean to go on a midnight stroll—yes, to escape! I see you found the cloak, did you not bother to read the obviously important note that came with it? Honestly, Merlin, to think—"

The prince was still talking, but Merlin was now looking around his cell, searching for the note. There hadn't been a note. There definitely had not been such a thing, the clotpole just forgot—

Oh, Merlin sighed to himself, catching sight of it upon the bench. Standing up, he reached for it. He was about to open it and read it when Arthur interrupted.

"Oh, don't bother. Someone's breaking you out, that's what it says, now come on." Merlin shoved the note in his pocket and moved toward the door. "It's a good thing I'm the one that came, seeing as you couldn't be bothered to break yourself out like you were supposed to. The cloak, Merlin! You'll need that!"

As Arthur used his keys to unlock the cell door, Merlin doubled back for the cloak. "What for?" he asked. Arthur rolled his eyes as he pulled the prison door open for Merlin.

"As a disguise, Merlin. Honestly," Arthur said, his voice dropping a bit so that it seemed he was speaking more to himself. "And my father is convinced you could take over Camelot."

Having heard that, Merlin grew indignant. "What makes you think I couldn't?" he said, swinging the cloak around his shoulders and tying it at his neck. Arthur just looked at him.

"You?" he said incredulously.

"Well, I am a sorcerer," Merlin said. He nearly shuddered at the strangeness of saying that aloud. To his surprise, Arthur just smiled, amused.

"No, you're not." Arthur didn't explain his denial, and Merlin didn't feel like asking. The two were making their way up the dungeon steps now, dropping their sleeves from their noses as they did so. Up higher, the smoke was clearing. If the two unconscious guards on the floor were any indication, Arthur had used some sort of smoke bomb to break him out. The prince caught Merlin glancing down at them, and hurriedly said, "Oh don't worry. They'll be fine. This stuff clears out quick." Merlin didn't bother to ask what prior experience of Arthur's had allowed him to know such a thing. He merely looked at the prince, his eyebrows raised. Instead of elaborating, Arthur only continued, "Which is why we need to go, Merlin, now. I know you're dressed like a girl but you don't have to walk like one!"

"I am not—men where cloaks, too!" Merlin said, but his pace quickened.

"I'm not sure you're one of those either, now let's go." Merlin didn't have a chance to respond as Arthur pushed him out into the hall and took off ahead.

Gritting his teeth, but fully aware that he had very few options, the young magician followed, nearly running to keep up.

updates will happen pretty regularly (once a week or so), especially once the semester ends.
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