CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Summary: Finding herself one thousand years back in the past and in the legendary Kingdom of Camelot was something Hermione had never seen coming. But with no possible way back to the future and being stuck in the past, Hermione had no option but to form a new life for herself, and hopefully without changing the timeline. Unfortunately, matters of the heart cannot be controlled and she finds herself entwined in the lives of Prince Arthur and the great and powerful sorcerer, Merlin. Hermione x Arthur pairing.
Disclaimer: I do not own canon events and characters, they belong to J.K Rowling and the creators of Merlin, and the BBC. I am not making a profit from writing and posting this fanfic. I'm also making some big changes to the Merlin plotline so don't be surprised that nothing matches with canon. If I'm being honest, it's been years since I last saw the series, so I'm mostly going off what I remember and episode reviews and notes. And I've decided Arthur won't be dying.
AN
You guys have been absolute gems. Thank you for all your help regarding the author plagiarising my work on Wattpad. It has now been taken care of and the account has been shut down, and I'm glad it's all over. As a precaution, I've started uploading all my works on Wattpad now, too, and if that makes me paranoid, then I'm paranoid.
On a good note, no one's died in my family yet, (too soon to joke about?) but I think I'm dying from a cold, of all things. I swear, I haven't been sick in three years, not even a sniffle, and now I think a runny nose is going to kill me, it came back with a vengeance. I'm the worst sick person ever, I feel sorry for my colleagues having to put up with my whining.
Your reviews for the previous chapter have been flying in (you guys are awesome and I love you!)- and I know you can't wait to see what happens next, so, let's get on with it. Enjoy this huge chapter!
Q&A
Guest - I have tried to come up with plot ideas in the past and I even wrote a chapter or two for one of them but I scrapped it. Fact of the matter is, I'm rubbish at writing same-sex pairings, I don't have a talent for it. I find it difficult to put myself into their perspectives and it wouldn't feel right to me if I didn't do the relationship justice or give it the attention and detail it deserves.
MarieGT18 – You really should, it's a brilliant programme. I've even managed to get my eight-year-old cousin to watch it and he loves it. He's the pickiest child I've ever met. Of course, I did have to tell him the Knights of the Round Table were basically ninjas with swords just to get him to watch the first episode with me. When he realised I was lying, he dumped his glass of water over my lap as punishment. (Adults shouldn't lie, he says.) Anyway, he loves it now and I've got someone to re-watch it with me. Well worth it!
Page count: 18
Her head hurt.
Why did it hurt?
Her vision was black? Why couldn't she see?
Why couldn't she remember what had happened? Why did her back hurt? Why was it so cold? It'd been a lovely sunny day.
"Hermione?" A voice whispered. She recognised it. "Hermione?"
She turned her head towards the sound, feeling it press against the cool leather of a boot. A cool breeze brushed against her exposed skin.
"Hermione?"
Her eyes fluttered open, her vision blurry. Oh, that was why she couldn't see. She blinked slowly, a darkening sky coming into view above. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a dark boot and she slowly followed it with her gaze, revealing dark breeches, a dark blue shirt and finally the worried expression of Prince Arthur.
"Hermione?" His voice was quiet and she noted that his gaze darted away from her, glaring at something in the distance before returning to her, his expression softening.
"What happened?" Her voice was quieter than she'd have liked.
"You do not remember?" He questioned with a frown.
"No,"
"Perhaps that is for the best," he muttered, shaking his head lightly.
Frowning, Hermione tried to sit up, realising that she was laid on the ground, but she couldn't sit up. She had no hands to help as they were tied behind her back, the knot tight and unforgiving and she gave up trying to wiggle free when the rope chafed against her skin. So, that was why her back ached. From lying on the hard ground and her tied hands digging into her back.
Stilling in her attempt to sit up, she took a calming breath, gathered her thoughts and then tried again, using what little upper body strength she had to lift herself up and then pressing her hands against the ground to shuffle back, managing to push herself up until she was perched beside Arthur on the log.
She ignored his eyes observing her worriedly as she took a survey of her surroundings. They appeared to be far from the stream as she could neither see nor hear it, she didn't recognise the area of woods they were currently in and she could see no pathway that was frequently travelled. They were surrounded by nothing but trees. She could hear voices and she turned her head to face forward, squinting slightly to see several figures hidden in the darkness but bathed by the firelight as they sat and milled about the firepit.
Her eyes moved back to Arthur, finally noticing his rumbled appearance, the nasty looking cut on his cheek and that his hands were tied behind his back, too.
"You're hurt," she said worriedly.
Despite the circumstances, his mouth tugged into a smile. "I am fine, I'm more concerned for you."
Her eyes fell downcast, seeing the previously cheery yellow of her dress now being covered in mud and dirt, if only the seamstress could see her now. But aside from a headache and her hands being tied behind her back, she felt fine.
"Me?"
"You've a bump on your head. It must be from when you were struck by the butt of a sword, I've seen it happen enough times to recognise the marking left behind."
She frowned, her eyes darting back to the firepit and then everything sunk in, remembering the man hauling her behind a tree but after his threat, she remembered nothing.
"Oh," she muttered, lifting her eyes back to him. "I've one very important question." He arched an eyebrow. "Who was abducted first, me or you?"
A snort fell from him. "You."
"Fantastic," she grumbled unhappily. "What happened, Arthur?" She questioned, her eyes darting between him and the shadowed men.
"Bandits, six of them, to my knowledge. I heard you scream. By the time I'd retrieved my sword and found you, you were unconscious. I tried to fight them but there was too many of them," he explained, looking to her apologetically.
Hermione released a tired sigh. "It is not your fault, Arthur, and I don't blame you for anything that happened. Things have been going rather well lately, something was bound to happen eventually," she tipped her head, resting it against his shoulder. "Although, rather than you coming for me, I'd have much rather you'd returned to the castle and gathered a group of men to aid in a rescue attempt."
"If you are injured or in harm's way, nothing will stop me from helping you."
"Yes, that is something I've come to understand," she replied. "How long have I been out?"
"I can't be sure, you were unconscious when I arrived. You woke briefly, barely a moment or two before falling under. It has been a couple of hours, I believe."
"They will be looking for us, won't they?"
"Yes. We should've returned to the castle before nightfall and as we didn't, my father will dispatch some of the Knights to search for us."
"So we do nothing and we wait until they find us?"
"Whilst we may not have travelled far from the city, we are in an area of the woods that even I don't recognise. It could take the Knights days to find us. We don't know the bandits' intentions. They may try to hold us for ransom."
"Do they know who we are?"
"No, I don't believe so, but I know they have both my sword and cape bearing the Pendragon crest, that alone is enough for them to deduce I am connected to the throne. Perhaps not as a Knight, as I'm not wearing my armour, nor as a Prince, as I don't have my crown, but still involved. As for you, they may believe I'm your protector, which would make you someone of importance, but they don't know just how important we are."
"Perhaps it is best it remains that way. I believe things might escalate should they learn our identities and it might put us in further danger."
"Agreed," he nodded. "I've been working on an escape plan..."
"Arthur, I hate to point out the obvious, but, we are both retrained with our hands behind our backs, the bindings are too tight to break and we have nothing to cut ourselves free. We have no idea where we are, we have no weapons, we are outnumbered and even if we did manage to escape, there is nothing to stop them from chasing after us. We'd never get away. You are a remarkable swordsman, but even you cannot fight against so many opponents. You have already been injured once, next time they might kill you."
"We can't do nothing. They might kill us anyway," he argued.
"They might, but our chances of survival are better if we keep our heads down. If they perceive us to be weak, they will underestimate us, and that is something we could use to our advantage."
"If I have the chance to break free and get you to safety, I can't promise that I won't take it, but I will promise to not do anything to anger them."
Well, it was the best she was going to get.
Unfortunately for them, one of the bandits looked in their direction and seeing that she was awake, huddled next to Arthur and they were quietly whispering between one another, he alerted the rest of the group, all eyes turning to them.
He approached, stepping away from the firelight and into the darkness, Hermione only being able to see him once he neared, and he was filthy. His dark shaggy hair in need of a brush, his pale skin in need of a good scrub, his clothing in need of a wash. He was barely taller than her but his strong physique more than made up for his height, making him intimidating.
"Yer awake, I see," he spoke, his dark eyes watching her in a way she didn't like and neither did Arthur as he glared at him murderously, something Hermione would later berate him for.
"Well, if I hadn't been clobbered over the head I wouldn't have been unconscious at all, now would I?" She replied calmly, refusing to back down from his stare.
His mouth twitched. "From what I hear, yer were making a lot of noise and had to be silenced."
"I don't care for being manhandled, especially by thugs."
He chuckled cruelly before closing the distance and crouching down before her. He reached up with his cold hand, grasping her chin with enough pressure to ache, only tightening his grip when she tried to pull away from him.
"Yer a pretty little thing," he said, paying no mind to the silently seething Prince beside her. "Yer name?"
"Ginevra," she lied.
He tipped his head to the side, observing her carefully.
"A name like that, a dress like the one yer wearing, the way yer talk, yer a noblewoman, aren't yer?"
"No,"
"Liar," his eyes narrowed before they finally moved to Arthur. "And yer. We have yer sword and yer cape. Yer a nobleman. Yer work fer the throne."
"No," Arthur denied. "My father does, I have several older brothers, I hold no titles and I never will."
"I don't believe yer. No matter, I'm sure we can get something fer yer."
"Holding us ransom will do you no good, we are of no importance," Hermione said.
His eyes moved back to her. "Fer yer sake, I hope we do. If not, we'll sell yer to the slave masters. They'd love a pretty thing like yer," he smirked cruelly, trailing the back of his other hand down her cheek.
"Don't you dare touch her!" Arthur exploded and then in the blink of an eye, he threw himself forward, tackling the bandit to the ground.
It drew the attention of the others but not enough for them to approach, seeing as the bandit before him easily threw Arthur off him and had the upper hand with both his strength and Arthur being without his hands. Hermione couldn't look as he punched Arthur across the face, nor as he was kicked in the stomach and she had to look away. It was only when she heard a choked cough that she forced herself to face forward, a feeling of sickening horror filling her stomach when she saw the bandit's hands settled around Arthur's throat.
"No! Stop, please don't hurt him! He was just trying to protect me! STOP IT!" She shrieked, her eyes filling with tears.
Miraculously, he listened to her, his eyes snapping to her and he pulled his hands away from Arthur, the Prince gasping for air on the ground. The man rose to full height and approached her, crouching down before her.
"Yer cry fer him, why?" He asked, seeing a tear fall down her cheek.
"He is a good man. He was only trying to protect me."
"Yer care fer him. Yer sneaking 'round, aren't yer? That's why yer in the woods far away from the city, where no one can see yer."
"I..."
"Leave them," a deep voice instructed from the shadows, but Hermione couldn't see who it belonged to.
Looking none too pleased, the bandit rose to full height once more, turned and left them, heading back towards the firepit with the other bandits. Once he was gone, Hermione sprang from the log, landing on her knees and she shuffled over to Arthur.
"Arthur?"
"I'm fine, I've taken worse in training," he assured her.
Hermione didn't believe him. He'd been kicked in the stomach several times and was highly likely to be developing bruising on the abdomen, he sported hand-shaped marks around his throat and had a few more cuts added to his face.
"Why did you do that? It was stupid! I said don't provoke them! He could've killed you! He was going to kill you had he not been stopped!"
"I wasn't going to let him lay a finger on you."
"He wasn't hurting me, just making me uncomfortable," she argued. "I don't want you risking your life for mine. You are more important than I am."
"Not to me."
"Arthur," she whispered, giving her head a light shake and finding it difficult to tear her gaze from his. "You can't..."
"Yer should listen to the girl," the same deep voice spoke up, stepping out of the shadows and into her line of sight, and the moment she did so, she froze, her eyes widening.
She recognised him. His messy dark hair and eyes. His tanned but dirty skin. His imposing height. His deep and gravelly voice. The badly healed scar around his throat.
She was right. There hadn't been seven bandits the day Arthur had found her. There had been eight! The man before her, the only thing that could make a scar such as that was a wolf. Oh, God! The blood! It hadn't belonged to a rabbit, it'd belonged to him!
"...If yer want to live. I have no issues with killing you, it's not yer that I want. It's her."
Arthur pulled himself up into a sitting position, glaring at him in challenge.
"You're not going to touch her."
The bandit smiled cruelly before approaching, stopping before Hermione and bending slightly and without warning, Hermione felt a stinging in her lip and cheek as warm blood dribbled down her face, her head snapping to the side and the skin splitting after catching on the ring he wore.
"You can't stop me," he replied coldly before turning and heading back to the firepit.
"Hermione?" Arthur called, a horrified expression on his face.
"I'm fine, Arthur, I'm not one for reusing past insults, but, my Grandmother hits harder than him and she's been dead for twelve years."
"Hermione..."
"I'm fine," she glared, the motion stopping his worried speech in its tracks. "No more heroics. We wait until help arrives."
"That could be days," he argued.
"It could be hours," she argued. "We keep our heads down and we don't draw attention to ourselves. I suspect that help isn't too far away."
"Meaning?"
"Akela," she answered.
Arthur's eyes widened, suddenly being reminded of the large wolf. Where was he? And Llameri? Did she stay where they'd left her by the stream? Or would she have wandered off?
"He's been gone too long, even if he is hunting. He's a very smart animal and will know something is wrong and he'd come looking for me. He may have already found me but is lurking in the shadows."
"Then why wait? Why not attack now? He was going to attack the night we found you."
"As I said, he's very smart. He's a predator, he knows when to wait and when to attack. If he's not here, he might've returned to the castle and should he do so and see we are not with them, he might be able to lead our rescue party straight to us rather than them searching in the dark blindly. He knows our scents; he will be able to distinguish between ours and the scents of the wild."
Arthur sighed in defeat. "That bandit, he targeted you?"
"I believe so, yes."
"Why?" He frowned.
"Arthur, did you not see the scar on his throat?"
"Yes?"
"It was a wolf bite. The night you found me, I thought there were eight bandits, but you only found seven. It's him. He's the eighth man. The blood on Akela, it wasn't a rabbit's, it was his."
Arthur's expression darkened and he peered over his shoulder towards the bandits surrounding the firepit.
"I swear, Hermione, he is the first one I'm killing."
~000~000~000~
Hours past in the dark of night and the freezing cold. Whilst the weather was lovely during the day, at night it was terribly cold, so much so, she was worried they'd both freeze to death, even if she had waited for Arthur to doze off and she silently cast a Warming Charm over the both of them.
Magic was an advantage, but not only couldn't she risk using it in front of Arthur, there were still too many of them against her. She was getting desperate. She was freezing and hungry and tired but she didn't dare fall asleep or let her guard down. She was sure Akela was nearby, too. She felt the piercing stare on the back of her neck sometime ago and it had yet to relent. She had one ally on her side, but she needed more.
The longer they were captured, the more worried she became, especially since she'd been watching the bandits steadily grow drunker and louder. Drunk men with swords were dangerous. All thoughts went out of the window and given their intoxication, she wouldn't be surprised if they grew tired of their plan to use them as ransom and just killed them to be rid of them. They had Arthur's sword, something of great value and they had her dagger, too, no longer feeling it beneath her sleeve, they wouldn't be completely empty-handed should they kill them.
"I don't know how much longer I can take the waiting," Arthur said from beside her, the both of them having moved to sitting on the ground beside one another and leaning back against the log.
"Me either," she admitted, having thought they'd have been found by now.
The longer they were there, the more dangerous the situation became. She was tired of waiting. She abandoned all thoughts of patience and instead, started working on a plan of escape, but first, they had to break free of their bindings. Her eyes searched her surroundings in the darkness, looking for anything that was sharp enough to cut through rope but not seeing anything. What she needed was something with a sharp edge, a blade. A knife or dagger perhaps. Maybe she could summon her dagger without Arthur or the men noticing. It was a risk, she just had to decide if it was one she was willing to take.
As her mind worked to make a plan, she was suddenly jarred from all thoughts when she felt a heavy weight weighing down her hands and the cool surface of metal against her skin.
"That's not possible," she whispered, already knowing without having to peer over her shoulder.
Arthur, hearing her whispered words, looked to her with a slight frown before he leaned back, his eyes falling down to her bound hands, widening at the sight of the Gryffindor Sword in her grasp.
"Hermione? That's your father's sword? But it's at the castle, I've seen it in your chambers. You didn't have it with you. How is it here now? How is that possible?"
Taking a breath, Hermione said, "Arthur, I'll explain later, I promise, right now, we don't have time. I've changed my mind, we need to get away from them. They're drunk, less likely to be able to defend themselves but more dangerous."
"We're still outnumbered," he pointed out.
"Not entirely, I'm certain Akela is here, I can feel his eyes watching me. He is fast and will help where he can. Turn around, use the sword to cut the bindings."
He seemed to take a moment to compose himself and she didn't blame him, even with Akela's help, she had no experience in a swordfight so he'd be forced to fight the majority of them himself, but she'd lend assistance where she could.
He twisted his body, lifting his hands above the sharp edge of the blade and quickly rubbed the robe over it, his eyes darting between the bandits and watching was he was doing so he didn't accidentally harm himself.
"Your turn," he said, after the rope fell to the ground and he reached for the sword, taking it from her grasp, he quickly released her of her bindings and Hermione rubbed the warmth back into her wrists, wincing at the ache in her arms.
"Stay back, I don't want you getting injured."
"I assure you, I can take care of myself, Arthur," she replied, "I survived a war, I can survive this."
"Hermione..." Arthur made to argue but she interrupted.
"I'll be careful, I promise, as long as you promise to do the same. We are outnumbered, take no unnecessary risks. If one escapes, let them. Once we are safe, they can be searched for and face a trial in Camelot."
"No unnecessary risks," he agreed.
"We have to wait for the right moment," she said, twisting to look over her shoulder, peering into the darkness in search of her wolf that was well hidden.
"Be careful, Akela," Hermione said quietly, not wanting to alert the bandits but hoping he'd heard.
She heard the rustle of leaves and the ground being disturbed by a heavy weight soon after, a soft sigh falling from her lips when she saw the bright blue of her large wolf's eyes from beside a tree not far behind them.
"He's here," she informed Arthur, seeing the Prince peer over his shoulder, Hermione seeing some of the tension fall from him as his shoulders slumped.
Her eyes darted back to the six bandits when laughter sounded, seeing one of them had tripped in his drunken state and had landed face first in the dirt, a fight soon breaking out between him and another as he lunged at him, taking him to the ground. The rest of the men cheered and laughed and drank; this was the best distraction they were going to get. Two of them were already fighting, they might injure themselves.
"Now," Arthur said, in agreement with her without realising it.
He was both quick and quiet as he stood and rose to full height, the Sword of Gryffindor clutched in his hand as he cautiously approached, doing his best to not bring attention to himself so soon.
Before Hermione had chance to blink and rise to her feet, a vicious snarl had sounded and Akela had silently crept through the trees until he was close enough to the bandits to pounce, landing in the glow of the firelight, his eyes gleaming, his back bowed and ears flat against his head as he snarled and bared his sharp teeth, and then, he lunged.
Two of the men were quicker than the others, two of them still on the ground after their fight and Akela caught a redhead by the throat, taking him to the ground as the bandit screamed and thrashed.
As the other bandits brandished their swords, the one that had previously fought with Arthur brought his sword down in an attempt to harm Akela, but there was a clash of metal as Arthur made himself known, the gold, silver and red of the sword glinting in the flickering flames of the fire.
Hermione watched as he was drawn into a sword fight with two of them, looking to be handling himself impressively, the other three surrounded Akela, looking hesitant to approach him. It didn't matter, the man beneath him had long since quietened. Akela raised his head, his eyes searching for his next target and showing no fear, he slowly prowled forward towards a brunette, the man stumbling backwards and waving his sword madly, whether it was out of fear or intoxication, she didn't know. But as he did that, the other two approached from behind him.
"No," Hermione whispered in horror, her eyes barely darting towards Arthur when she saw one of them raise their sword and preparing to strike, and with a whispered word and a wriggle of her fingers, a spark of fire jumped from the firepit, catching his breeches and erupting in flames.
His sword fell from his grip as he yelled and cried out, flailing about as he attempted to extinguish the flames. Hermione didn't know if it was his panic, his intoxication or if he was just an idiot, but he reached for some ale and poured it over the flames, only adding fuel to the fire."
He was going to die and she couldn't find it in herself to care.
The screams briefly distracted Arthur, drawing his attention to the burning man and in doing so, he received a slice to the arm from a sword and a hit to the back with the butt of a sword.
He needed help.
With another whispered word, Hermione had the one who'd fought with him seemingly trip over his own feet, sending him tumbling to the ground, allowing Arthur to drive his sword into the bandit's stomach and quickly rolling out of the way of the second sword which almost took his head clean off from his shoulders. With him being alright, she turned her eyes back to Akela, seeing him being circled by two of the bandits as he snarled and snapped at them, blood coating his mouth and fur. He truly looked terrifying.
She didn't want to risk using any more magic and she'd spotted her dagger glinting in the firelight and with that in mind and seeing the path being clear, she took off in a run, barely making it halfway before she found herself taken by surprise when she was tackled to the ground, a heavy weight landing on top of her, pinning her beneath them.
Hermione groaned in pain and slowly opened her eyes, seeing a rather large man above her.
What? Where the hell had he come from?
There were six men. She'd counted. Three were dead, Arthur was battling one and Akela the final two. That was six! Unless, there were more men they hadn't known about, hadn't accounted for. Oh, God! How could she have been so stupid?! She should've known there'd be others hiding, keeping watch for any that may approach their camp during the night or to catch them should they escape. They'd heard the battle and returned to help. But she couldn't see just how many had returned.
"Where'd yer think yer going, girlie?" He smirked cruelly, his grip on her wrists tight and sure to bruise.
"Get off me," she ordered, her voice cold but calm.
"No, I don't think I will. Once yer friend's dead, we'll get a pretty penny selling yer to the whore house."
"I said, get off me," she punctuated each word carefully, her eyes darkening, her magic building, the kind, soft side of her being shoved away and replaced by something colder, darker, more frightening.
His grip only tightened, Hermione took that as her cue.
She twisted her wrists in his grasp until she was able to wrap her fingers around his wrists before hissing, "Tempest," and rather than a bolt of lightning shooting from the sky, she felt it buzzing through her very being until it reached her fingertips and passed from her, straight into him.
His body convulsed, the look of surprise still on his face when he tipped to the side, his heavy weight pulling him towards the ground until he landed with a 'thud'. Hermione didn't stop to see if he was dead as she darted to her feet, seeing three other men that hadn't been there before.
One was dead, two more were trying to defeat Arthur in battle and the other had joined in with the attempt to kill Akela. That made ten in total.
The adrenaline fought off the pain in her back and she raced forward, whispering another Impedimenta in Arthur's direction, hearing one of the bandits hit the ground, levelling the battle out a little more when one of the other bandits accidentally sliced into the other's stomach when Arthur rolled out of the way.
She reached the firepit and she gripped the handle of her dagger, pulling it free from the ratty satchel it sat in, she barely stopped as she continued towards Akela. Letting her instincts take over, she threw the dagger without thought or feeling, watching as it left her fingertips, travelled through the air and lodged into the lower back of one of them.
He fell to the ground, he wasn't dead but he would be, she'd intentionally aimed for his organs. She'd had almost three years to learn to hunt, more so since arriving in the past and a human was a much larger target than a rabbit. She'd have been angry with herself if she'd missed.
She halted to a stop, tore the dagger from the bandit's lower back and then darted towards Akela through the gap in the now broken triangle formation they'd had him cornered in. Two bandits stood before her, one with their sword pointed at her and the other at her wolf; if they were surprised the wild, the blood-covered animal wasn't attacking her but instead moved closer to her as if to protect her, they didn't show it.
"I'd run if I were you," she warned them. They didn't move or speak. "No? Very well,"
With a wriggle of her fingers and a mutter falling from her lips, she barely darted a glance at Arthur as her magic heated the handle of the sword so hot, the bandit cried out and automatically dropped it, just as Hermione called, "Attack!"
Akela lunged, his jaw open wide and snapping shut around his neck, blood pouring as he ripped out the throat with his teeth, the bandit's screams dying down slowly. Hermione had to be careful, she had a dagger and the bandit before her, a sword, and he caught her left arm when she dashed out of the way. He tripped over the charred body, dropping his sword and catching himself on his hands and when he pushed himself up, he charged at her, Hermione using her smaller size to her advantage, ducking under his larger body with her right hand outstretched, the bandit running straight into her dagger.
She didn't pull it out of him until he hit the ground, leaving him to die.
She heard clashing metal and looked to Arthur, seeing him gracefully dancing out of the way of his opponent's sword and within in the blink of an eye, Arthur fell to his knees and drove his sword through the bandit's chest.
That was all of them.
Hermione allowed herself a moment to take a deep breath, caging away that darker side of her which had been released. She'd used an awful lot of magic and only prayed Arthur hadn't seen any of it, but when the Prince rose to his feet, the Sword of Gryffindor gripped in his hand as he breathed heavily, his eyes sought her and he didn't look disgusted or angry, he looked both worried and relieved. He hadn't seen her.
"Akela, cover my tracks," Hermione said quietly.
The clever wolf didn't need to be told twice or require further explanation as he took off in a run, pouncing onto the body of the man Hermione had hit with a powerful electric current, tearing out his throat. If he hadn't been dead before, he was now. Without any obvious signs of injury given their battle, it would be suspicious, now if found, people would assume an animal had killed him as it had some of the others.
Hermione was personally responsible for three, possibly four deaths, more if she counted those in which she unknowingly had aided Arthur, and she didn't care. She reasoned that it was her or them, Akela and Arthur or them, that she'd more than likely killed before during the war, and that it wasn't so taboo in the world she'd now lived in for two years. Priorities changed, people changed.
As Arthur slowly approached her, his eyes were wary of his surroundings lest there be any more surprise bandits ready to pop out of hiding, Hermione turned away from him and did a quick sweep of the bodies, her dagger still in her hand for the same reason. She determined they were all dead, but as she looked over the final man, she realised something.
"Arthur?" Hermione called, turning to see him stood by the firepit, both his sword and the Sword of Gryffindor held in each of his hands. She didn't know where Akela had disappeared to, likely thinking the same as them and searching for any others who may have been hiding.
"Yes?" The Prince asked, his brow furrowing as she quickly approached with a worried expression.
"He's not here."
"I'm sorry?"
"He's not here. The bandit from my attack, he's not here. I've checked all of the bodies, none of them are him."
Arthur's expression grew grave as he turned in a circle, slowly surveying his surroundings.
"I don't see anything," he replied, "But we best be cautious and we should leave now and make a start on returning to Camelot."
Hermione agreed and they'd barely taken a few steps when they heard voices approaching, Hermione and Arthur sharing a glance before they both gripped their weapons tighter and backed up to the warmth of the fire. As Hermione prepared to launch her dagger through the air, the sound of hooves picked up and they both looked to another, some of the tension leaving them but their guard not lowering.
It was only when the familiar face and horse of Sir Leon came into view as he burst out of the darkness, that Hermione and Arthur both sighed in relief. Six other Knights followed behind him, Hermione seeing that one of them also had Llameri and her reins were tied to the ones on their own horse. They'd either found her by the stream or wandering the woods. Hermione wasn't all that surprised when she saw Merlin wasn't with them, knowing he'd been tasked with collecting ingredients for Gaius, some of them taking a day's travel to reach their growing place.
"Sire! Your Highness!" Sir Leon called, dismounting his horse before he'd even halted to a complete stop and unsheathing his sword, the rest of the Knights following his lead as they slowly approached, their eyes moving between them, the bodies on the ground and searching for possible attackers.
"We are fine, Sir Leon," Arthur assured him, paying no mind to their disbelieving expressions as they deliberately looked them up and down, bringing notice to their injuries. She was sure they looked a state.
"What happened, Sire?"
"Bandits took us hostage, there were too many to fight and Hermione was unconscious. We later found an opportunity to escape."
"That is the extremely short version," Hermione piped up, wiping the blood from the blade of her dagger on her skirts and then slipping it up her sleeve.
"That, I believe," Sir Geraint said, looking to be struggling between amusement, worry and anger on their behalf. "I cannot imagine your father taking this news well."
"Neither can I," Arthur sighed.
A howl sounded and Hermione released a slow breath when Akela appeared from the darkness, quickly approaching and appearing to be uninjured. She'd dropped onto her knees before he'd even fully approached and then wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her face into his soft, warm fur.
"Thank you, Akela," she muttered, pulling back when she heard a whine fall from his lips. "I am fine," she promised when he nudged at the cut on her arm with his nose. "You protected me wonderfully, and I promise, I shall have the kitchens provide you as much cheese as you can eat."
The large wolf's mouth dropped open comically.
Hermione turned to her left when Arthur crouched down beside her, his hand raised until Akela pressed his head against it, Arthur scratching behind his ears.
"And I will ensure you are supplied with both apple pie and that you are fed rabbit, pork and chicken every day."
"Now you are spoiling him," Hermione said. "He will get fat or make himself ill."
"He deserves it," he argued.
"Yes, he has been busy, hasn't he?" A Knight she didn't know the name of interrupted, his eyes surveying the mutilated bodies.
"He was protecting his lady," Arthur defended, rising to full height and Hermione did the same, absentmindedly running her hand through Akela's fur when he stood beside her.
"Yes, and please remind me to never do anything that may be interpreted as a threat, that is not how I wish my life to end," he replied, gesturing to one of the bodies and the other Knights sniggered at him.
"He is very capable of protecting me, which is why he took offence when Michel and Emerick were assigned as my guards," Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
"You have been quite busy yourself, Sire," Sir Brennis complimented.
"You assume it was only Akela and I who are responsible for the bodies?" Arthur questioned. The Knights turned to her as one. "Hermione killed just as many as I did," he informed them, a proud tone to his voice.
"Oh?" Sir Leon arched an eyebrow.
"Possibly," Hermione lied. "I am smaller than they were, more agile. It was difficult but not impossible."
She noted their amused expressions, as if they didn't believe her. She didn't care whether they did or not.
"I think we best take our leave, it's cold, we've been held hostage for hours and we're both in need of rest and medical attention."
"Agreed, let's return to the castle," Arthur said, handing Hermione the Sword of Gryffindor and with his hand moving to the small of her back, he guided her forward towards Llameri, the other Knights moving to mount their own horses.
When Akela released a grumbled growl from his place beside her, Hermione stilled, her eyes darting about her surroundings.
"What is it?" Arthur questioned, the other Knights pausing in their movements, turning to look at her.
"Something's not right," she replied, her eyes moving between Akela and her surroundings.
And then she saw it. Him.
He fell from one of the trees, landing behind Sir Leon and with a strained cry, he raised his sword and brought it down towards Sir Leon's back.
No one was close enough to intercept and Sir Leon wouldn't be fast enough to turn and pull his own sword, neither could Akela reach him. Instinct took over and Hermione pulled her dagger from her sleeve and threw it.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as the dagger left her fingertips, moved through the air, past Sir Leon's face and then it lodged firmly in the bandit's chest, all in the passing of a couple of seconds. He fell to the ground, his sword falling from his hands and just to be sure, Akela pounced, ensuring his death. None of the Knights batted an eyelash as such a gruesome death; they were all staring at her, their eyes wide in surprise and their swords partially pulled, as if they'd frozen.
"Your assumptions, Sir Leon?" Arthur prompted, his tone proud and smug.
Sir Leon cleared his throat, peered over his shoulder at the dagger lodged into the chest of the man that had almost killed him, and then he looked back to her.
"I will never again tease you because of your height," he commented, the other Knights snorting, giving their heads a shake and sheathing their swords.
Hermione scoffed. "That's a lie," she folded her arms over her chest. "You can't help yourself."
"When was the last time I teased you on your height?" He demanded.
"Yesterday," Hermione's mouth twitched.
"Ay, yes," he cleared his throat, "I suppose it was," he admitted, sniggers ringing out. "But I now owe you my life, I shall refrain from such height-related teasing."
"I'll give you two days before you crack."
"Two? That's being kind," Sir Brennis said, a scowl being sent his way.
"As far as we're aware, that is them all, but be vigilant," Arthur intervened before an argument could happen between his Knights, tipping his head towards the gathered horses.
Once they reached Llameri, Arthur conducted a quick check on her, ensuring she had no injuries before helping Hermione onto the saddle, quickly following her. He then fastened his cape around himself and then pulled it until it wrapped around Hermione, trapping them against one another in the warm fabric. When they set off on their journey back to Camelot, he followed Akela, trusting the wild-pet wolf to lead them home.
"The sword, Hermione?" Arthur questioned, no longer being able to take the silence or the not knowing.
"I was going to ask about that," Sir Geraint spoke from beside them. "I know you keep it in your champers and you didn't have it with you when you left the castle."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Hermione replied.
"You promised to explain its sudden appearance later, it is now later," Arthur pointed out.
"Very well," she agreed in defeat, seeing the rest of the Knights apparently listening in as they moved in closer to better hear her explanation.
"You have said the sword is unlike anything you have ever seen, there is a reason for that. All of your swords and weaponry is made by a blacksmith, and no matter their talent, materials or experience, they won't be able to replicate a piece such as my father's sword."
"And why is that? Do you not have blacksmiths in Hogwarts?" A Knight asked, one Hermione wasn't sure she knew the name of.
"We do, but this sword was not made by a blacksmith. You are all aware that Hogwarts is a Kingdom of peace, that we welcome magic. My father's sword was made by goblins."
"Excuse me?" Arthur said, sharing a dubious look with the other Knights.
"Goblins. Goblins, whilst greedy and menaces, make the best jewellery and weaponry in existence. However, they rarely make such items, which is why they are so valuable and coveted. My father's sword is priceless. It is crafted from goblin steel and imbued with magical properties and spells. That is why you have never before seen such craftsmanship. As for how it is here now, both this sword and my Grandfather's is fitted with a magical spell that allows for the sword to materialise to those who are both in dire need and a true Gryffindor, no matter where they are," she explained, glancing around to see their surprised expressions.
If she were honest, she was rather surprised herself.
She didn't know how the sword had gotten to her. Whilst it did appear to those thought worthy of being a Gryffindor, it only did so in the Sorting Hat. She didn't have that. She hadn't even thought of the sword. It was just there. Why?
"Your Kingdom and its people sound like any other I have heard of," Sir Leon spoke. "Perhaps I shall visit one day."
"Perhaps," Hermione smiled, knowing there was no chance he'd be able to gain access to the magically protected school.
~000~000~000~
Arthur sat in a chair beside Hermione's bedside, the large blood-covered wolf that was her pet silently watching from his place by the lit fireplace.
Once they'd returned to the castle, there'd been a flurry of activity between the servants bringing them food and water, his father demanding answers to their whereabouts and what had happened, and Gaius checking them both over. None of their injuries had been life-threatening and soon, they'd both been tended to and excused themselves and headed to their chambers.
Only, he hadn't gone to his. He'd waited a short while outside of Hermione's until he was sure she was sleeping, and despite knowing it was highly improper and betrayed Hermione's privacy, he hadn't been able to stop himself from entering into her chambers, a sense of calmness that he hadn't felt since their time by the stream settling over him at the sight of Hermione sleeping soundly.
He hadn't been able to leave her, even after seeing she was peacefully slumbering and he'd brought the chair from her dining table over to her bed and sat there quietly, watching her sleep. She looked so young and peaceful and beautiful that it was almost heartbreaking, and to think, after the events of that night, she could have been taken from him before she'd even known of his feelings for her.
He wasn't sure how long had passed but the sky was showing signs of the sun soon to be rising, when Hermione made the first restless noise in her sleep. She turned in her slumber, facing him as she lay on her side, her wild hair fanned out on the pillow and an arm thrown out towards him. He hadn't been able to stop himself and he cautiously reached for it, gently slipping his larger hand around hers, and when she didn't wake, he'd leaned in closer, and raised his free hand, softly skimming the backs of his knuckles down her cheek, pausing when she released a sigh. Seeing she made no movement and there were no signs of her waking, his mouth tugged into a smile and he continued until he paused at her mouth, seeing her slowly healing split lip. Anger surging through him at her being harmed, he softly traced his thumb over the wound and then the entirety of her bottom lip.
"Arthur, you shouldn't be in here."
Arthur startled, pulling his hand back from her face but not releasing his grip on her hand, and he peered over his shoulder, surprised to see his father was still awake and appeared as though he hadn't yet been to bed either. How hadn't he heard him enter the room?
He turned his eyes back to Hermione's slumbering face. "I know, Father, but I couldn't sleep without knowing she was well. I came to check on her and once I was here, I couldn't leave."
"You care for her," he stated knowingly. "You must guard your heart, Arthur," he reminded him.
Arthur's eyes slowly traced every detail of Hermione's face and he released a soft sigh.
"I fear, it is already too late," he replied, pulling his eyes from Hermione and turning to look over his shoulder at his father. "I love her," he admitted the words aloud, both for the first time and to himself.
His father held his gaze, the blank expression held on his face. "Then we must pray King Godric receives our missive and replies with both a confirmation on her identity, and an acceptance of a union between you."
"You should have seen her, Father. Never before have I seen a woman, a Princess, fight in battle the way she did. I worried for her safety but it was for nought. I was reminded that she is a warrior, a survivor of war, she is someone I know can and will defend Camelot should it be needed."
"You are proud?" His father asked.
"Yes," he answered. "What if we do not receive a reply? If the riders do not return?"
Both the expression on his father's face and the silence was very telling.
He reminded himself Hermione had not been in Camelot for long and the riders had six months to return. A lot could happen in that time.