Merlin and Arthur sat at a separate campfire from their new companions, having some lukewarm soup in wooden bowls.

"More soup?" Merlin asked Arthur kindly.

"Yes, please," Arthur responded, cheery and carefree as could be under the influence of magick. Merlin ladled some of the liquid into Arthur's outstretched bowl.

"Thank you."

Merlin smirked, glad to finally hear some manners coming from Arthur's mouth directed towards him.

"A please and a thank you all the same time? That's amazing," Merlin said casually.

"Is it?" Arthur questioned, confused.

"Mm. Well, let's just say manners are not your strong point."

"Really?" Arthur asked, paying apt attention to Merlin's every critique. Merlin nodded in response.

"In what way?" Arthur continued, looking as if he was in deep concentration on the subject.

"Rude. Thoughtless. Insensitive," Merlin said, his own hidden thoughts coming out. "And that's when you're in a good mood." Arthur looked disappointed in himself, for once in Merlin's eyes, feeling ignorant.

"Sorry to hear that," he muttered dejectedly.

"I don't think you realise how hard I work for you," Merlin said, not even realizing that he was beginning to rant his true feelings to Arthur, who probably wouldn't remember this talk after the spell wore off. "I know you're the king, but it would be nice if you could do one small thing for yourself as a, erm... gesture. Mark of respect."

"Sorry to have been a disappointment, Merlin," Arthur apologized glumly. " I'll try harder in future."

"Oh, I look forward to that," Merlin sighed. "On the other hand, why wait?" He dropped his bowl into Arthur's, whose expression flickered at the addition in his hand.

Merlin gestured at the soup pot and said, "That pot will need rinsing out as well."

"Of course," Arthur said quickly, getting up to obey.

"And when you're done with that, the horses need a rubdown, too," Merlin added, kicking back in ease.

"My pleasure," Arthur replied enthusiastically, going to retrieve the pot.

"Over there," Merlin pointed him in the right direction. Arthur turned to clamber over some bushes and promptly tripped, disappearing into the plants in seconds, the bowls and pot hitting the ground with clangs. Merlin smiled in amusement and leaned back sleepily.

"You all right?" he called over, hardly concerned.

"Yeah." Arthur scrambled up and went on to finish cleaning.

Guinevere had started a fire while Hermione collected some sorts of edible plants, and water from the lake. She stood quietly at the shore for a few minutes, revering the stone monument that stood high on the island in the center of the water under the dim moonlight. As much as she respected the historical landmark, it also gave her a sense of shadowy foreboding and fear. Something about it made her shiver.

She turned away and made her way back to the fire, still shivering because it was chilly and she had nothing to keep her warm. She'd run her fingers through her hair earlier, pulling out the hay and putting it into a bun, tying it with a strip of her dress that was already hanging off. The witch had also taken to cleaning her would as best she could with the fresh water, gritting her teeth as it stung the raw skin. Though, unlike once before, long ago, Hermione actually noticed as the wound appeared to heal somewhat. She stared, bug-eyed and gaping mouthed, as the burn reduced in severity and more of a welt was left in its place. She could not understand it... she had never seen such a reaction, especially not with herself.

Could it be the lake? She had certainly felt something in its presence, and it was supposedly enchanted- after all, it was home to the Lady of the Lake, wasn't it? As inexplicable the circumstance was to the young witch, she had not questioned it, opting instead to tear more material from her dress and wrap it around the wound. It still hurt, as evidenced by the reactive wince, but it was one positive occurrence after a string of bad circumstances she was grateful for.

Guinevere was popping some berries into her mouth slowly as Hermione returned to the fire, taking them in her fingers off the make-shift plate that was a flat rock. Hermione sat opposite of the serving girl, only eating a few berries and cooked mushrooms. She wasn't very hungry, despite not having eaten for nearly a day. She stared into the embers as Guinevere speculated her carefully.

Guinevere had already examined Hermione before, noting her small frame, dense hair, and unhealthy appearance. But the girl had gotten better, to Gwen's surprise. She'd put on a few good pounds, retained her colouring and glow, and her hair was as healthy and big as ever. Her eyes still had something shadowy about them, but not nearly as haunted as they'd been before.

"I think we should wrap that would

"I don't think we met before," Guinevere finally spoke, getting the attention of the distracted witch. "I'm... I mean, I was Morgana's maidservant."

"Yes, I know," Hermione mumbled in return. Gwen cast aside the lack of politeness.

"Well, I was there during the time you came," Guinevere admitted stiffly. "I was there and I saw what happened and... well, your relationship with Arthur."

Hermione was a little embarrassed, not even remembering Gwen had indeed been there, helping Morgana every day. In fact, she specifically remembered when she'd helped in the kitchens that one time, Guinevere had entered, only to appear baffled, yet pleasantly surprised by what was going on.

"Oh," Hermione could only say at her words. "I remember now. That was a long time ago."

Guinevere nodded agreeably. "Indeed. Over three years ago that happened."

Everything was quiet for a few moments until Gwen dared set something straight.

"A lot can happen in three years, Hermione," Gwen said nonchalantly. "And a lot has happened, I'm sure you're aware."

Gwen's words were setting Hermione on edge and she felt confronted. "I am aware, yes, Guinevere."

She enjoyed using Gwen's full name, because she was establishing she was not on friendly terms with the woman, and it simply made her feel superior, even in her beaten-down state. Gwen clenched her teeth, her dark pink lips pressed together as she chose her words.

"I didn't want to have to be like this, but I need to make things clear to you, Hermione," Gwen spoke, treading carefully but confidently. "You left three years ago. Arthur was heartbroken, and he distanced himself from nearly everyone. After some time, he started to break out of his... depression and began to regain his confidence as we became closer. He made it clear he liked me, and things went from there. For three years, we've been in a steady relationship. Then one day, you and your friend showed up out of the blue. Arthur saw you and he was bent out of shape again. He was trying to forget you, and then you came back. I don't know why and I don't care. All I care about is Arthur, and I don't want him to get hurt again. He's been good again since the veil, and I don't mind your permanent residence in Camelot, because I can't stop you staying. But don't step over the line again, because if you crush him a second time, I will not be happy."

Hermione had simply stared hard at Guinevere throughout the whole speech, her heartbeat rising quickly. She wanted so bad to yell at Guinevere, to make her feel stupid once she knew Arthur didn't care for her like he did for Hermione. But she didn't want to hurt Gwen that bad. Gwen was clearly just establishing her territory, and it annoyed Hermione, but if the roles were reversed she'd probably be the same way.

However, she was still regretting the decision to put off restarting her relationship with Arthur. Then she wouldn't have to hold her tongue and keep the secret. But at the same time that Gwen irritated her, Hermione's heart ached at the things she had missed while she was gone that Gwen had pointed out. Hermione was aware Arthur had been changed after she'd gone home, but she didn't know just how deep it had penetrated him the same way it had affected her. It was like a smack in the face once again.

"I don't like to talk this way to people, but I've seen the way you act towards Arthur and I couldn't stay silent any longer," Guinevere added timidly. "I won't lose him eith-"

Guinevere stopped short. Hermione sensed a raw spot being exposed.

"Lose him either?" she spoke quietly. "Because you've already lost Lancelot."

Guinevere had gotten up and was biting her lip, pacing beside Hermione. When Hermione poked at the wound, Guinevere flinched and feeling attacked, turned on her heels and struck Hermione in the cheek. Her nail caught Hermione's healing lip, and the scab was torn away. Blood seeped out of the re-opened wound and Hermione stood up tall with scary speed. Guinevere was horrified.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't... I didn't mean to hit you."

Hermione wiped her lip with the back of her hand, the blood smearing over her skin.

"You may have fooled Arthur, or Merlin, or Gaius, but you don't fool me," Hermione snarled. "You loved Lancelot, and you always did. Even before Arthur. But then you had to move on and that's when Arthur stepped in, desperate for the love that he'd lost. Maybe you cared for him dearly, but you certainly didn't love Arthur in those three years the way I did in a few days. You'll never have that bond with him that I did. You may have him right now, but I know deep down, you can't stop thinking of Lancelot and it's tearing you apart. Because it's him you truly loved, and the only reason you cling to Arthur is because you cling to love, and you need someone to give it to you. You've established your role."

Hermione stepped forward, unblinking and cold.

"And now I've established mine," Hermione finished, unaware, or perhaps uncaring of the blood that continued to seep down her lip. "Don't threaten me Guinevere, and don't think you choose which direction Arthur's heart goes."

Hermione was then past Guinevere, going to collect more firewood. There, she hadn't revealed too much, but she'd made just enough clear to Gwen. She wasn't going to play by Gwen's rules. The beauty's eyes followed Hermione, knowing she was a few years Hermione's senior, but feeling sadly immature compared to the girl after their conversation. She couldn't resist one more thing though, one thought nagging at her.

"Is it true that you have magick?" Guinevere called over. Hermione froze, back to Gwen, and finally spoke in a controlled voice.

"I'll leave that for you to decide, My Lady," Hermione said, ending all conversation. She continued towards the woods, Gwen even more curious than ever on Hermione's true identity.

Agravaine and his men sat upon their galloping horses, bearing torches, as they rode through the dark woods.

Arthur aimed a few kicks at Merlin, who had been sleeping peacefully until the kicks woke him up.

"You better have a damn good explanation for this, Merlin," Arthur hissed in a low voice. Merlin stared blankly, wondering how the spell had worn off without him stopping it himself.

"Fine. Then I'll just carry on kicking you," Arthur shrugged, kicking some more. Merlin scrambled to his feet before the King.

"Arthur."

Arthur waited for Merlin to say more. A grin was spreading on the closet warlock's face. "You're back!"

"What do you mean "I'm back"?" Arthur questioned, eyes searching Merlin for some sign of intelligence, and mouth open slightly in disdain. "You're talking gibberish."

"Listen to me, please," Merlin rushed. "Camelot is lost. You were injured in an attack, you passed out. I had to get you out of there." Arthur looked stunned as he remembered everything that had happened.

"Where are we now?" he inquired seriously.

"We're heading north to a safe haven, to Ealdor," Merlin answered. "Hopefully the knights will meet us there."

"Where's Hermione?" Arthur continued, glancing around, expecting to see her sleeping peacefully somewhere on the ground. Merlin opened his mouth and odd noises came out because he didn't know what to say. Arthur's heart stopped and his face fell in horror.

"Tell me she's here, Merlin," he demanded. "Tell me she's here."

Merlin held his hands behind his back, lips pressed together hard and eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry."

Arthur pressed his hand over his forehead and eyes, pushing it up and through his hair in frustration.

"I should never have let her fight," Arthur seethed. "I should have locked her in with you and Gaius, I shouldn't have... I should have gone to check on her! I should have known there were too many men..."

"Arthur, you couldn't have stopped her," Merlin shook his head. "She'd die for Camelot, you know that. For all you know, she could have-" he lowered his voice, "-she could have gotten away by using magick."

Arthur lowered his head. "Perhaps."

"Arthur, we'll save everyone when we can," Merlin assured his King. "But first, we have to keep you safe from Morgana and her men. I care for her as much as you do, but right now, the person who needs the most protection is you."

"Don't say that, Merlin," Arthur growled. "I will never be more important than her, never. I would give myself over to Morgana before watching her die."

"I know that," Merlin agreed softly. "But you can't forget about your people. She's strong, Arthur, she'll pull through."

Arthur's warm blue eyes seemed to brighten at Merlin's encouraging words. He resumed his usual character, feeling a little stupid for being so vulnerable in front of Merlin. Yet, he could trust Merlin wouldn't judge him or think of him any differently for his feelings, something he'd learned about his manservant over the years.

"Who are these people?" he asked, changing the subject, yet not forgetting Hermione.

"They're, er..." Merlin's facial expression flickered a lot, mostly looking guilty, "Smugglers."

"Smugglers?!" Arthur shouted angrily.

"Shh!" Merlin quieted him hastily. Arthur's eyes shifted in annoyance.

"All right, let's assume, for one moment, you know what you're doing," Arthur mocked calmly. "It doesn't explain why I look like a village idiot."

"It's the perfect disguise," Merlin said enthusiastically, as if his plan was completely ingenius. "No one would ever suspect you of being, you know... who you are."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur scoffed. "I am not going around looking like this." He started to leave when Merlin grabbed his arm, prompting Arthur to flip around, a threat on his tongue.

"You have to," he ordered. "You've got to keep in character."

"Character? What character?" Arthur asked incredulously.

"You."

Both of the men flipped around to look at Tristan, whose eyes were on Merlin.

"We leave as soon as the horses are watered," he said. "Explain it to the simpleton, would you?" He turned to walk to the people who were bustling around already. Arthur faced Merlin, who smiled sheepishly. Merlin picked up the sword as they walked to the wagon. Arthur reached over, grimacing, to tug the sword out of Merlin's grasp. Tristan and Isolde glanced up.

"Simpleton," Tristan acknowledged. Arthur wasn't used to responding to a title like that.

"He's talking to you," Merlin smiled nervously.

"I don't answer to that name," Arthur hissed back.

"In character, remember?" Merlin shot back, keeping his smile.

"Impressive piece," Tristan said quietly.

Arthur hesitated, then spoke in the most outrageous, stereotypical commoner voice. "Thank ye, Sir." Merlin nearly snorted.

"May I?" Tristan requested. Arthur handed the sword to Tristan reluctantly.

"Magnificent. The only place you find workmanship of this quality is the royal forge of Camelot." The tip of the blade was at Arthur's throat in an instant, the King gulping hard.

"Tell me, how did you come by it?" Tristan questioned suspiciously. Arthur opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. Merlin stammered, then spoke up.

"I won it in a card game," he lied. "Gave it to him as a present. Won't be parted from it. Makes him feel safe."

Tristan's eyes narrowed and Arthur nodded stupidly, waiting. Tristan handed the sword back slowly.

"I hope for your sake that's true."

Arthur pretended he didn't know how to hold the sword and stared like an idiot.

"I'd hate to think that I was riding with a knight of Camelot," Tristan spat. Arthur hugged the sword.

"Aye." Isole giggled, crossing her arms over her warrior woman outfit.

"Knight of Camelot? Look at him," she gestured, amused.

Merlin smiled convincingly and Arthur faked having trouble putting the sword back in his belt.

"You're right," Tristan agreed. "Their knights may be stupid, but they're not that stupid."

The groups chuckled and Arthur followed them, allowing Merlin to ruffle his hair roughly.

"Pack your things, Simpleton!" Merlin ordered, feeling particularly superior. Arthur smiled, grabbing Merlin's arm, and leaned in.

"Call me that again and I'll run you through," he promised lightly.

"Don't worry, Sire, I'm sure you won't have to keep it up for too much longer," Merlin said encouragingly.

"How long?" Arthur groaned impatiently. An arrow shot from the woods, striking a man who was walking past them. They revolved and saw Southrons charging fearlessly. Arthur placed a hand on Arthur, pulling him away to duck as an arrow went right past his head. They took cover behind the wagon with Tristan and Isolde, who were looking rather confused by the sudden charge, yet calm.

"Head for those trees, we'll cover you," Arthur commanded, back to normal. Tristan and Isolde exchanged baffled looks.

"Do you want to live or not?" Arthur asked loudly. Tristan stepped forward to say something, but Isolde pulled him away to run. Merlin and Arthur grabbed crossbows, firing through the wagon at Southrons. Merlin tossed Arthur another bolt, then reloading his own weapon.

"Now what?" Merlin asked breathlessly.

"Now it's our turn," Arthur replied calmly.

"Who's going to cover us?" Merlin's brows went down.

"Don't be a simpleton, Merlin," Arthur laughed, turning to shoot more Southrons. More men kept coming, so Arthur grabbed his sword and he and Merlin made a run for it. Agravaine was directing Southrons towards the wagon.

"They haven't found the cargo," Isolde muttered.

"They will," Tristan said, indifferent as his thoughts were somewhere else. "Besides, they weren't after the cargo. They were after you. Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Arthur Pendragon," Arthur answered honestly.

"The King of Camelot!" Tristan whispered, outraged.

"At least, I was," Arthur replied, eyes downcast.

"I've lost everything I've worked for for some good for nothing king!" Tristan continued angrily.

"That's quite something coming from a smuggler," Arthur shot back, no longer glum but annoyed.

"Well, I wouldn't have to be a smuggler if it wasn't for your damn taxes, would I?!" Tristan challenged.

"Those taxes help protect the people of this land!"

"My people are dead. You call that protection?" Tristan asked mockingly.

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but..." Merlin pointed at the Southrons coming from behind. Arthur and Tristan attacked, fighting side by side. Isolde fought valiantly, but a Southron elbowed her in the head and slashed at her sword arm, kicking her to the ground. He posed to deliver the final blow but Arthur pierced him from behind, and he crumpled to the ground. Tristan kneeled to hold Isolde and Arthur and Merlin watched from the side empathetically.

"Isolde. We had a deal. Partners for life, remember?" Tristan said in a trembling voice.

"When have I not kept my promises?" she questioned weakly, though she was strong enough to offer a loving smile. Tristan kissed her forehead and breathed in relief.

"We need to keep moving. There'll be more coming soon," Arthur interrupted gently.

"Then go," Tristan said. "There's nothing stopping you." Arthur rolled his eyes but remained calm.

"Come with us to Ealdor," Merlin suggested. "You'll be safe there."

"I'm choosy about the company I keep," Tristan insisted stubbornly.

"He saved my life, Tristan," Isolde argued weakly, looking at Arthur. "Thank you."

"None of this would've happened if it wasn't for them," Tristan said, upset.

"She's injured," Arthur tried to convince Tristan. "She needs shelter and rest."

Tristan glanced at Isolde, who nodded, and sighed.

"Very well. But know this, Arthur Pendragon, I do this for her. You and your kind bring nothing but misery to this land."

Arthur pursed his lips to refrain from saying anything, and turned away.

"We have to travel now, or we'll have to stop again," Hermione said, trying to remain casual with Gwen. After all, they were all the other had until they found Arthur and Merlin. She wasn't going to let petty fighting stop her from finding her friends. But something else was nagging at her, like she had something she needed to remember... she instinctively reached up to grasp at the necklace on her collarbone. Wait... the Compass of Sors! She had forgotten all about it, never finding a moment in which she'd needed it... until now.

McGonagall had said the thing would take her not where she wanted to go, but where she needed to go. But did that mean she would go to Arthur and Merlin? What if took her somewhere else? But she had to trust it would take them to the men- she needed them, surely the compass knew that. Hermione turned away from Gwen, pretending to be thinking.

"Pareo," Hermione thought clearly. The compass shimmered as it began to reappear and she took it off. Guinevere was too busy looking around to notice the magick. Hermione clicked the little button on the top and the two little doors that were closed over the compass popped open. She peered in curiously, realizing she had never taken a long look at the interior of the compass, despite having it for months. It had the usual N, S, E, and W, engraved in gold in the black background. The golden elegant pointer was aimed at South from where she was standing. But the East carving was emitting a white glow. Hermione understood right away where she needed to go. She spun around until the pointer was aimed at the E, which was still emitting the soft light.

"What's that?" Gwen asked, noticing the little trinket in Hermione's fingers. "I didn't see you wearing it before.."

"I had it hidden under my dress," Hermione lied, hoping Gwen accepted it. "It'll lead us to Arthur and Merlin."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, now come on," Hermione ordered. "We can't afford to lose anymore time."

They began their hike once again, Hermione wincing as she stepped on rocks that cut her feet but eyes on the engravings as each letter took a turn to glow them in the right direction.

"Have you come to gloat, My Lady?" Gaius asked in a weak voice as Morgana stood outside their cell with some of her men.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend? I'll forgive you. After all, you're not looking your best," Morgana smirked, then turned on Gwaine and Elyan.

"Can't you see he's starving? We all are," Gwaine said, his temper flaring.

"Of course you are," Morgana mocked. "You killed so many of my men. And you tried to escape. I'll have the kitchen prepare you a feast."

Gwaine stepped forward threateningly, but Elyan pulled him back. Gwaine continued to walk up to the bars, more slowly and wary. Morgana's eyebrow went up.

"I think not of myself, but of Gaius. He can't survive long without food," Gwaine tried to sound as calm and convincing as possible. Morgana smiled her wicked grin and stepped up fearlessly.

"Aw, Gwaine, so handsome, so selfless," she murmured. " Of course you shall have some supper... as long as you're prepared to sing for it."

She smirked as the doors were opened and her men dragged Gwaine out. As soon as she turned away from Gaius and Elyan, she frowned in anger. She was still outraged at Hermione and Gwen's escape.

"My Lady, we caught these three," one of the big guards rumbled to the sitting Morgana. Gwaine and Elyan were on their knees before her as she sat on the single throne, Gaius being held up by a guard because he was too frail.

"And the girls?" Morgana tread.

"It- it appears they got away, My Lady," the other man stuttered in a low voice. Morgana blinked once, still curled up calmly in her seat, although her eyes had narrowed considerably and her nostrils were flaring.

"They got away?" she asked in a deathly quiet voice.

"Yes, My Lady."

"You're telling me, that a simple maidservant who has no idea how to use a weapon, and a frail girl who recently underwent the worst torture you can think of, escaped my entire army of warriors?" Morgana continued.

"Yes, My Lady."

"You stupid, worthless, brainless idiots!" Morgana shrieked, her eyes glowing quickly. Five guards flew backwards and hit the walls. The two watching the prisoners flinched. Morgana clambered off the throne, arms at her side tightly.

"I want a group of men sent out to find them, they can't have gotten far," she ordered acidly. "Or perhaps I should send a whole army? Oh, that's right- they somehow got past my whole army! You call yourselves worthy warriors?" Morgana was breathing heavily, when suddenly her rage stopped. She paced hastily, her heels clicking and echoing in the room. Gwaine and Elyan exchanged worried glances. Morgana stopped pacing and stomped to Helios, who was unfazed.

"Helios, send your best men, not the idiots that let them escape in the first place," Morgana ordered, her henchman nodding obediently. "I'll deal with them in one moment. Bring the young girl back alive. I don't care what you do with the maidservant, but I want Hermione. Do not fail me, Helios, my patience is wearing thin by the minute."

She needed Hermione back alive. She was her best chance at luring Arthur in and finishing what started.