In the near darkness of his cell, Alfred sits heavily down on the smattering of straw and a very worn piece of jute matting that makes up his sorry excuse for a bed in here, forcing himself to calm down.
He needs to focus, and figure out a plan.
As he breathes deeply, his panic subsiding, he realises something. While he was panicking, part of the fear he feels isn't his. He blinks, thinking himself a complete idiot for not realising sooner. It's faint, a creeping feeling at the back of his mind, sitting in the pit of his stomach, but it's definitely there.
He would smile in relief at that, since that means Arthur is still alive somewhere, which is good, but it also mean that the wolf is scared, which is not.
He's not sure if it'll help, but he concentrates on calming himself completely, and hopes that Arthur will feel it and be calmed too.
But that would only be a temporary fix, what he really needs to do is figure out a way out.
Frowning, he stares at the bars across from him.
"Hmm, Gil through me in here, but why?" He voices his thoughts into the silence.
"He said it was for treason but..."
That can't be right. Alfred has known the albino Commander for years, and this just isn't like him. Even though he's his superior —or rather, was— the man became a good friend of his. There have been plenty of times during his training when he got tangled up in stuff, and Gilbert had always listened to his side before making any judgements.
To throw him in jail, without first at least hearing him out...
Not to mention, the last thing Gil said to him has been bugging him since he woke up.
"You should never have come back here."
Two years ago, Gilbert told him he did everything he could to convince the King to lessen his punishment, that he tried desperately to convince him not to exile Al, but he wouldn't be persuaded. When he left, Gilbert helped him get everything he needed before he went, no matter what. He promised him he'd keep an eye on Mattie for him, and that he'd look forward to the day they would meet again. So he should have been happy to see him.
"Something isn't right here..."
Add to all that, he's been awake for sometime now, so someone should have came for him by now to drag him before the King. It's not like they wouldn't know, anyone within a five mile radius probably heard him shouting. So, where are the guards? Someone should of been here by now, if only to tell him to shut up.
He shifts about, uncomfortable and a little cold, the chain rattling with the slightest movement. He's been stripped of his armour and weapons —now barefoot in only his undershirt and trousers— and the chill of the dungeons is starting to get to him. If he still had his stuff, he might have been able to wrangle something out that he could use to pick the lock.
He sighs, frowning down at the manacles. His wrists are seriously starting to hurt being bound for so long.
"Wait..." Looking closer, he notices something.
The manacles, while heavy and annoying, are just plain old iron. He twists and turns them around to look at every angle, but nothing. There's no runes on them, not even a basic inscription. And, though his skills are still pretty limited, he can't sense any magic from enchantments on them.
"Which means..." He starts to grin.
They're not magic resistant restraints. Gilbert doesn't know about his magic, he didn't put him in the cells for mages, just the regular ones.
He flexes his hands as he tries to get more comfortable so he can focus.
He can do this.
He may not be the best at it, nowhere near as good as Arthur, but this much he's sure he can pull off.
Holding out his wrists, he stretches his hands out as he focuses on the cuffs.
"Just focus on what I want the magic to do." He reminds himself.
Concentrating, he imagines the manacles freezing, becoming brittle by the cold and shattering.
Over the past few weeks, he's gotten better at his control, but his precision and skill still needs work.
Slowly, the ice forms, creeping over the binds and up part of the chain, but it also spreads over his wrists and up his forearms. It's a good thing that mages aren't effected by their own magic, or he'd have a serious case of frostbite by now.
Despite his lack of skill, he still manages to freeze the cuffs, the dark metal shining in it's coating of ice, but they don't shatter.
Not one to let a little set back stop him, Al quickly stands. Looking around, he grins as he spies the hook-points where the chain is attached to the wall. It's a little above his head, but he can still reach, so, he lifts his wrists, and repeatedly smashes the bonds against the hook. Made brittle like he planned, it doesn't take long for the manacles to shatter, finally freeing his hands.
He sighs happily as he pulls his hands free from the broken bonds, rubbing his wrists.
"One down, one to go."
Now freed of the chains, he quickly makes his way to the bars, placing his hands over the lock and freezing it, along with most of the bars it's attached to.
A few good kicks, and he's free.
But using so much of his magic at once is draining, still, he can't stop now. So he shoves the creaking door open, quickly diving out for the nearest cover to hide.
"This is definitely weird..."
Someone should have heard all that, he was hardly quiet about it. So where are they?
Deciding to take his chances, he slowly creeps his way down the corridors.
As he goes, he can't help but smile a little nostalgically. Back when he was only ten and just starting out his training, he had to go through 'initiation'. Really, it was just the older knights way of torturing the newbies. His 'initiation' was to spend a night down in the dungeons, with no torch and no map to find his way. Since he had a day to prepare, Mattie made him memorise the layout.
It's a good thing he never forgot it.
In the dark, only guided by the handful of torches along the walls at odd intervals, it doesn't take him long to find the way out.
He creeps up the stairs, knowing that guards will be posted at the top, just before the door. And sure enough, he finds the group of four men, only...
"Huh."
He easily steps around the men, all fast asleep over the small wooden table. That would explain why no one came down to see what all the noise was about, they're out cold.
Shrugging at his good luck, he silently slips out into the dark corridor beyond, well, as silently as he can with a heavy wooden door that creaks and squeaks.
Now out the dungeons and into one of the corridors of the castle, he keeps to the shadows as he rushes through them. For once he's thankful for his lack of armour as his bare feet make little sound as he runs.
First, he needs to get a sword, then, find Arthur and bust him out. Only once he knows the wolf is safe, then, he'll try to explain himself to the King. It's funny, time was, he would put nothing before his servitude to the King, even his own life. Now, Arthur firmly holds that spot, even before his King, which Alfred never thought anything would, but here he is. He's not sure when exactly Arthur became the top of his priorities, but now he can't imagine it any other way.
Sneaking his way through, Al slips into the armoury and, much to his relief, finds his Sky Blade amongst the racks. Sword now in hand, and quickly grabbing a pair of boots —'cause damnit his feet are cold!— he slips back out and heads for the only place he can think they would keep Arthur.
But as he runs about, he finds it odd how empty the castle is. In all his sneaking, he hasn't seen one other person. Sure, it must be the middle of the night given how dark it is, but there should still be some people, even just the servants, they never seem to sleep.
He considers that maybe he's just lucky, that maybe he's just in a quiet part, but the answer soon becomes apparent as he nears one of the courtyards.
The sounds of laughter, music and singing start drifting through the hall as he gets closer, and, along with the sounds, he starts to see people. The oddly missing servants are all hurriedly dashing about as every one of them has their arms full of food, drinks or some form of decoration. A young girl carrying a plater of hors d'oeuvre rushes right past him and out the open door to the courtyard, not even sparing him a passing glance.
He's about to just head on out and see what all the commotion is, when a middle aged woman grabs him by the sleeve.
"And just where do you think your going?" She demands, balancing a small crate of materials on her hip as she looks disapprovingly at him.
Going by her two tiered dress and age, she's one of the head maids, and going by how flustered she is and how messy her greying bun of hair is, she's obviously in a hurry.
"Uh..." Is about all he get's out, worried that he's been caught.
"Oh you actors are always so flaky. Hurry up!" She snaps, pushing the crate into his arms and waving her hands at him to shoo, "They'll be starting soon, so get going! And take that with you, the stage hands have been harassing my girls for more materials for props, so tell them that's all they're getting!"
"Uh..."
When he doesn't move she huffs, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him down the hall.
"For Gods sake, do I have to do everything around here?" She bemoans.
Not wanting to cause a scene, Al let's he pull him along, soon arriving in an area of the castle he's rarely been to.
The woman shoves a set of doors open rather roughly, and pushes him inside, turning and stomping away.
Inside the room, are a half dozen men and women buzzing about, dressed in costumes or the dark colours of the stage hands. One of them looks up at his entrance and sighs in relief.
"Finally." He sighs, grabbing the box out of Al's hands and disappearing with it through one of the three doors leading off of the room he's in.
But Al doesn't get more than a moment to think on his next move, as another stage hand grabs him out of nowhere and pulls him through a door, into a changing room.
"Found him." She says sounding rather annoyed before disappearing as another young woman takes over, pulling him to a rack of clothes and holding costume pieces up to him.
"Uh, what are you doing?"
She says nothing, choosing to only glare at him as she slaps a hat on his head while deciding which of two belts looks best.
"Ah, so your the new understudy?" A young man dressed up to look like a grey old wise man asks as he moves past, looking through a selection of robes.
"Understudy?"
"Yeah, James is sick, which sucks, and Ross is out of town, so, we needed a new guy. That is you isn't it?" He asks, pulling out a dark burgundy robe and turning to look Al over.
"Um," Now what should he do? He can't say no, or they might get suspicious. So he'll just have to play along for now, "Yeah, but uh..." He stalls, trying to think of an excuse.
Luckily, the other provides one for him.
The man sighs, rolling his eyes as he points to the belt in the girl's left hand.
"Let me guess, Norma just grabbed the first actor she found without checking to see if your any good." He sighs again while the girl fastens the belt around his waist, "Please tell me your at least somewhat decent?"
"Uh, yeah, I can act." He's doing it right now, not that the other two know.
"Good, so you've memorised your lines then?"
"Um."
"Urgh, here." The man groans, shoving a handful of papers at him, "You better learn them fast, we're on in ten."
With that, he stomps off, and the girl tugs him down into a stool on front of a mirror and begins moving about him, pulling the hat off to mess with his hair.
While she fiddles with his look, he flips through the script in his hands, quickly skimming it.
"Oh." He blinks down at the pages.
Now it all makes sense.
The drunk guards, the empty halls, the noise from the courtyard and all the running around the servants have been doing.
And why he's been mistaken for an actor.
It's the mid winter festival for the solstice.
"Is it really that time of year again?" He asks more to himself than anything, not expecting an answer.
"Yeah, funny how that works huh? It's almost like it happens every year, who'd imagined that?" The girl sarcastically drawls as she starts, much to Al's horror, covering his face in makeup.
"Hold still." She snaps when he tries to move away.
Sighing, he gives in, not wanting to blow his cover.
At least he knows what his role is now. It's not hard to work out from his dress, there's only one character in the Winters Hero play that looks like him.
The lead, the Hero.
Alfred can't help but grin, he doesn't even need the script, he's seen this play so many times he knows it off by heart!
So when it's time for him to go out, he strides out confidently, ready to preform.
Authors notes: Okay, so this chapter was a little hard to do, I accidentally wrote myself into a corner not once, but twice while writing this. But fear not, for I figured it out and the plot shall progress! Next chapter is gonna be fun, Alfred the Hero of the play, what could possibly go wrong? Mwhahaha...
In other news, FF is shitting on itself. I've tried 4 times now to save and upload this chapter, but keep getting an error message. Hopefully, through my techno wizzardy, it should work this time. So if you see this, let me know.
R & R people.
Until next time, stay awesome!