CHAPTER TWO
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.
Page count: 6
It had been a year since her arrival and she still couldn't believe that she was stuck in the past, and not just the past, but one thousand years before she was due to be born and in bloody Camelot, no less.
It had taken a few days for her mind to unfold, for her memories to come back to her. The Final Battle had been upon them, they were all fighting valiantly, refusing to surrender no matter of their injuries, their dead or of them being outnumbered. Giving up meant condemning the world to a life of slavery and suffering, it meant ruining the future for generations to come, dark magic and people taking over and changing the values of the Wizarding World. It meant sentencing innocent children and people to slaughter and torture, to a life of hell. They couldn't give up, no matter of their losses.
Hermione, devastated by Fred's injury and potential death and by the loss of Harry, had refused to surrender. She was fighting for those like her, for those that were willing to stand up and do what was right, for those that couldn't fight for themselves. Needless to say, she'd been beyond surprised when Harry fell from the lovable half-giant's arms and stood to his feet, drawing Voldemort into a duel.
The moment Neville had taken off the head of Nagini, he'd dropped the Sword of Gryffindor in favour of his wand, sending powerful hexes and charms to his opponents. Hermione had never been prouder of her fellow Gryffindor, and she'd told him so as she ran past him, patting him on the back and leaving behind his flushed cheeks and ducked head.
Her intention had been to reach the Sword of Gryffindor before any of Voldemort's Death Eaters did, not wanting a powerful magical artefact, the only artefact of the Four Founder's left in existence, to fall into the wrong hands.
She dropped to the ground as Unforgivables dashed over her head and shoulders and she slipped the sword into her beaded bag for safekeeping, before rolling over and pushing herself back onto her feet, jumping back into battle.
It was when Voldemort had fallen to the ground, that all violence stopped and silence reigned. That lasted all of a few moments before Death Eaters fled and others fought to the death, rather wishing to die than be taken into custody and thrown into Azkaban. It was at that moment when she'd found herself separated from the others and she was being chased through the Forbidden Forest. She couldn't quite remember what happened next, only that she was cornered in a clearing and with no knowledge of a shield that could defend against so many attackers, -eight, she thought- she'd known she was going to die but wouldn't do so without putting up a fight. As she shot off as many hexes and charms as she could, five different spells headed her way, colliding with one another before hitting her square in the chest with such a force it lifted her off her feet.
And then she woke up on the table of Hunith's hut.
Discovering that not only had she travelled so far back in time, but that she was in Camelot, the time before King Arthur's reign, had been so overwhelming she hadn't been able to cope. Remaining asleep for a couple of days had allowed her overactive mind to calm and focus, working on a plan. She knew there was no way back home. She knew from experience you could travel back but not forwards, and despite having the knowledge of the great sorcerer, Merlin, -she still couldn't believe it, Merlin himself!- being in this time, she was positive even he would not know of a way to send her home. She felt it in her bones, her heart and her magical core.
She was stuck.
She had to find a way to live in the past without changing the timeline. Oh, how easy that would be.
She owed a great deal to the Hunith, –whose son happened to be named Merlin, how odd?- who'd patched her up the best she could with the little resources she had. She'd offered Hermione a place to stay in her small home but Hermione thought she'd imposed enough and gracefully turned down her offer. She hadn't known what else to do and after William had taken her for a walk around the small village, she knew she had nowhere else to go. So she stayed.
For the first couple of weeks she'd hauled up in the tent she'd stashed away in her beaded bag and knowing she wouldn't be able to do so for much longer with people always wandering the woods, hunting and collecting firewood, she built herself a little wooden house with the aid of magic.
The villagers had soon grown used to her presence and her strangeness, as it was clear she wasn't from around these parts, way off in fact, and they welcomed her reading and writing lessons and her healing and remedies. Hermione was grateful for her trusty beaded bag having been stashed in her pocket at the time of the spell collision, allowing her access to her books and tomes. Ron hadn't seen the point of her placing most of the Black library in her bag, but she was glad she'd done so, many of the texts being healing and natural remedies focused. She was careful with what little potion stores she had. A lot of the ingredients she had could be found easily enough, some of them could easily be planted and hidden with magic whilst they grew and were ready to be harvested, others, were only to be used in cases of dire need given the lack of accessibility she had to acquiring more, the majority of such only being found halfway across the world or had yet to be discovered or invented.
It had taken some time to adjust to her new life. She was not used to things being so quiet and calm, she was used to danger and adrenaline. She missed her family and friends –she wondered how they were fairing after Voldemort's death, if they knew of her disappearance, if they thought she was dead, if they were getting on with their lives and living them to their fullest as she'd want them to-, she missed the modern foods, music, transport, and especially the showers, toilets and clothing.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a shower; she hated feeling dirty and unclean so she made sure to wash with the aid of magic, using Cleaning and Refreshing Charms as often as possible, she washed twice a day and she did her best to bathe a couple of times a week, transfiguring a bucket into a bath and heating the conjured water with a wave of her wand. One thing was certain, the village may run out of food but they'd never be short of water, not if she could help it.
She'd die to be able to use a toilet again, hating having to use a bucket or chamber pot but to her advantage, she was able to vanish anything that exited her body with a wave of her wand whilst others had to dispose of it themselves.
And clothes, she hated the clothing of this time period. She hated her movements being restricted by tight dresses and she hated tripping on the long skirts, so more often than not, she wore leather boots, dark breeches and tunics of any colour she could charm with a cloak over the top. She knew the villagers found her strange, particular her odd clothing choices and even the words she sometimes spoke, but they never said anything as she was their physician and teacher. But Hermione would kill to be able to wear jeans and a t-shirt again, she did sometimes, too, having such items hidden away in her beaded bag.
Having her attention pulled by a loud ruckus, Hermione frowned and set down her knife of which she was just about to use to skin the rabbits she'd caught the previous night. She headed for the door, peeking her head out and her eyes widening as is in the distance, she saw they'd returned, Kanen and his men were raiding the village of what little stores they had.
It took everything Hermione had in her not to use her magic whenever they came for a visit. As much as she was thankful to the people and she adored the children, she couldn't risk anyone discovering her secret. She was close enough to Camelot that King Uther would have his men march for Ealdor and have her executed, no matter if she were a citizen of his Kingdom or not.
She strode from her home and with a flick of her wand, had the door locked with a few extra security measures surrounding it. Her home was built on the outskirts of the woods, it being a short walk to the rest of the village but it was hidden by the trees unless you knew it was there. Kanan didn't so she knew her own stores would be safe.
She saw it, little Elisa who was only but four years in age, and she was dangerously close to being trampled on by a man and his horse. Taking a breath, Hermione picked up her steps into a run and she raced across the field. As soon as horrified gasps and shouts of warning sounded, Hermione dove forward, tackling the young child to the ground and out of the way, holding her against her body and twisting so she took most of the brunt of the fall.
"Elisa," Hermione said softly, the little girl removing her face from being buried in her cloak and lifting her head, showing her red cheeks and tear-filled eyes. "Are you hurt?"
"No," the little girl shook her head. "You saved me."
Hermione gave a small, strained smile as she heard Kanan's men ransacking the villagers' home.
"Of course I did, you need to be more careful, little one," she said, holding the little girl to her as she pushed herself up into a seating position, manoeuvred onto her knees and then stood to her feet, the little girl clinging to her tightly.
"I promise," she whispered, her face buried in Hermione's neck as the sounds around them continued.
Hermione placed a hand on the back of Elisa's head to keep it in place as she didn't wish for the young child to see what was happening and she crossed over to her parents, handing her off to her father who gave Hermione a nod of thanks and he and his wife fussed over their daughter whilst still being aware of their surroundings.
Kanan had pulled his sword and was threatening Hubert, a kind man who's wife had died not long before she had arrived, leaving him a widower and alone with his now six-year-old son, Tobyn. Hermione strode forward, her back straight and her face calm. Suddenly, Tobyn was grabbed and pulled against Kanan's chest, the sword being held over the little boy's torso and caging him in.
"That is enough!" Hermione's voice was clear as it cut through the threats and pleas of the villagers.
The gathered villagers looked to her and then back to Kanan, their eyes widening and worried looks crossing their faces, some of them even shaking their heads to warn her off.
"There is no need for such violence," she said, moving herself so she stood in front of Hubert and standing taller, her chin high and her gaze unflinching as it met their terroriser's. "He is but a child. Let him go."
"This does not concern you," Kanan replied, his eyes spiteful despite them giving her the once over. She wouldn't react to him or give him the satisfaction of making her uncomfortable.
"When you are threatening the life of a child, it most certainly does," she replied.
Her hand reached out towards Tobyn and wrapped gently around his wrist, tugging him towards her carefully to avoid the sharp blade of the sword. Surprisingly, she felt no resistance from Kanan and she pushed Tobyn behind her and into his father's arms.
"Why must you do this? These people are barely able to feed themselves and their children. Surely there are other villages that are bigger and plentiful with food and grain. Where is your humanity?"
She was surprised when a hand suddenly reached out, grasping her throat and squeezing tightly enough to hurt but not to completely cut off her oxygen supply. Yes, she panicked, but she knew better than to show it, so she forced her body to relax and kept her eyes locked on his and her hands held down by her sides.
"You forget your place," he sneered, lowering his face to hers.
"I do not," she gasped out when his fingers tightened briefly. "When you harm children, I cannot stand back and allow such an action to take place. You do not scare me," she said truthfully. "Believe me when I say, I have seen things far more frightening than you, I have faced trials and suffering worse than anything you may possibly do to me. I am not afraid of you and I will not stop until every single one of your men is dead and the people of this village are safe from those like you."
Her breathing turned into gasps as his hand tightened painfully, but even when her eyes filled with tears and she could feel herself going dizzy, she kept her eyes locked with his. It infuriated him.
She coughed and gasped as she found herself free and she stumbled back until there was a sharp pain as her head snapped to the side, a stinging cut forming on her cheek and lip. She'd been backhanded and the ring he wore cut her. She didn't cry, she'd certainly felt worse pain, and she turned her head back to him.
"I am still not afraid of you."
She let out a groan and doubled over when a fist sunk into her stomach and she was briefly aware of the gasps surrounding her. She lifted her head once more.
"My Grandmother can hit better than you, and she's been dead for twelve years."
His eyes blazed with fury and he snatched a double-headed axe from one of his men and raised it high, preparing to bring it down upon her. She didn't close her eyes, she would keep her gaze locked with his until the very end.
He brought it down and Hermione prepared herself for death, only it didn't come. The sound of metal on metal clashed and her eyes widened in surprise when out of nowhere, a man had dismounted a horse and was drawn into a sword fight with several of Kanan's men and he wasn't alone, there was a second man and two women, too. But Hermione couldn't take her eyes off him, seeing his chain mail and armour and the red cape he wore with a crest she didn't quite recognise, but she was sure it was golden dragon. He moved gracefully and effortlessly and it was clear to her he knew exactly what he was doing.
Kanan rose the axe high once more, determined to end her life. The man, he turned and his eyes widened briefly before he darted forward and forced Kanan away from her. Hubert pulled her to her feet and shoved her behind him, insisting that she hide for the time being.
Normally she would've scoffed at such a notion, but this time she ducked behind a hut, not wanting the children to see her in such a state. She leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily and rubbing at her sore throat. The sounds of metal clashing stopped and it was soon followed by galloping horses. She didn't need to look to know they'd been scared away. For now.
A few minutes later she startled when the man that had saved her life appeared beside her without warning. She visibly jumped and he held his hands up, placating her. She almost glared but stopped herself when she remembered she owed him her life.
"I'm sorry for frightening you," he said, "I just wanted to ensure that you are well."
Hermione pushed herself away from the stone wall and stood straight, smoothing out her cloak and clasping her hands in front of her body. Her eyes took in his appearance, noting how handsome he was. He was taller than her, around six-foot and had tanned skin, rumpled blonde hair that was tousled by the wind and the brightest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen. And his teeth! How did someone of this age have such perfect, white teeth? She didn't doubt he'd have a beautiful smile either.
"I am," she nodded. "I am not normally one to be a damsel in distress," she replied and his eyebrow rose. "But on this occasion, I thank you for your help, I owe you my life."
"There is no thanks necessary," he replied.
Her eyes scanned his face before landing on the cut on his cheek and she frowned slightly. "You're injured," she said with a tone of concern.
He frowned and lifted his hand to his cheek when she gestured to her own and he pulled it back, seeing the blood coating his fingers.
"Let's tend to that, shall we?" She said.
"I am fine, it is but a scratch," he replied, a smile pulling at his face. "I must speak with the others and form a plan, Kanan will be back."
"You may do so after your injury has been seen to. It may be but a scratch, but it is still susceptible to infection. Follow me and we will have you tended to."
She stepped around him and began walking but noticing that he wasn't following after her, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. He was staring at her in surprise, his eyes slightly wide. She found it amusing; obviously he'd never had someone boss him around before. Well, Hermione was a master at it.
"Come on, we don't have all day. Kanan will be back and we don't have long to prepare our defences."
With that, she turned once more and headed for her home.
