CHAPTER ELEVEN


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: 8


"Silly wolf," Hermione shook her head with a laugh, leaning against a tree with her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Akela wriggle and writhe on the floor, trying to scratch his back against the uneven ground with loud snort-like sounds leaving him and his mouth hung open wide with his tongue lolling out of the side of it.

She'd been journeying to Camelot for just over a day now and Hermione had stopped to rest given that she was tiring and Akela had apparently found the best back-scratching post in the world.

Almost two months had passed since she'd travelled to Camelot and watched after Arthur whilst Merlin found a cure to save his life, and the moment she'd arrived in Ealdor, she'd gotten straight to work, whipping up the remedies the sick children needed and within a week they were as right as rain, running around the village and annoying their parents with their abundance of energy and refusal to talk quietly.

She'd immediately started preparing for her leaving, making sure to get Cole and Polly in her hut as often as possible as she didn't have a lot of time to teach them everything they would need to know. For Hermione, she'd already had a basic understanding of first aid which had given her an advantaged due to modern practices, but her experiences of healing Harry and Ron and Fred and George, even Seamus and Neville over the years had come in handy, as did the medical books and tomes she'd gotten from the Black library during their time staying at Grimmauld when they were on the Horcrux hunt.

Cole was a fast learner whilst Polly struggled a little to keep up but with them both helping her, she soon picked it up. It was a month after her return when she announced that she was leaving. As expected, the villagers had been in disbelief to hear they were losing her and the children had been distraught, no one more so than her little ray of sunshine, Elisa, and her possible future husband, Tobyn.

She'd barely gotten any time in to rest during the second month as she had far too much to do, ensuring the children were able to finish their reading and writing lessons by themselves and if not, that the adults she'd already taught would help them. She had to ensure Cole and Polly knew where to find the ingredients needed for remedies and that they knew how to grow and harvest them, too, as Hermione wouldn't be leaving all of her stores behind, especially her rarer ingredients.

The day before her leaving, the village had hosted a little party to say thank you for all that she'd done and to wish her luck for the future. There had been fire pits, singing and dancing, as much food as they could afford to use from the stores and plenty of drinking.

The following morning she'd been sent off with many a hug from the children, some of them even following her into the woods until their parents called them back because they'd travelled too far out of sight. She left with only two satchels to carry, the majority of her items being hidden away in her beaded bag and stashed in the hidden pocket inside her travelling cloak. She only took items of clothing, her ingredients and books and enough food to tie her over for the long journey. She'd met Akela in the woods and despite explaining to the wolf that she was going to the city and it was best he stay in Ealdor, he hadn't listened and waltzed ahead, taking the lead.

Hermione couldn't describe it but as the days to her leaving Ealdor grew closer, the more she thought about Arthur and Merlin, the more excited she grew, the more nervous she became, the more she felt as though she were making the right decision. She just knew she had to be in Camelot. Maybe it was to keep an eye on the Prince and ensure he married Gwen, maybe it was so she could help Merlin, she could show him how to control his magic though she knew it would be quite difficult. She had a wand, Merlin did not. As far as she was aware, wands hadn't yet been invented and wouldn't be for another seven or eight centuries, so it was imperative she was very careful with her own. She still had Bellatrix's wand as a backup, but she'd rather not have to use it given the horrible acts it had been used to commit.

A sneeze sounded and Hermione looked to her wolf in amusement when he rolled onto his stomach and buried his nose beneath his paws and she snorted. Honestly, her wolf wasn't so wild anymore, not really. He slept by the side of her bed every night, he ate food out of her hand, he followed her commands –most of the time-, he was house trained and he liked cuddles. The others in the village had found it odd but Hermione was used to his behaviour, but he would only act that way with her and no one else.

"Come on, Akela, if we keep stopping we'll never get there and we've got at least a two day's journey ahead of us," Hermione said, pushing herself away from the tree and continuing down the path, her wolf soon catching up and running ahead.

It was around dinner when Hermione knew she should find somewhere safe to hide away for the night as it would soon be growing dark, and although she didn't stop walking, she kept her eyes peeled for the perfect spot but had yet to find it.

As the sky grew dark and a chill picked up, Hermione suddenly became aware that is very quiet, too quiet, and she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Whenever that happened, usually something terrible happened. Spending years diving into danger and dodging death, Hermione had picked up a sixth sense for such occasions.

It was a bad time for her wolf to have spotted a rabbit not long before and he ran off in the opposite direction as he chased it. Before, Hermione hadn't been all that bothered knowing that he'd find his way back to her like he always did, but now, Hermione was cursing the damn rabbit to hell and back.

She could feel eyes on her and they were very much human, but not wanting to give anything away, Hermione forced herself to remain calm and to keep walking, maybe they'd leave her own. Yeah, she didn't believe it either but it was wishful thinking. Hermione's hands slipped beneath her cloak, feeling for the dagger under her right sleeve and her wand beneath the left.

She was glad she'd hidden her beaded bag as that contained everything she needed, whereas her satchels were simply holding clothing and food. But what if they were bandits and they took her cloak, too? Then they'd have her beaded bag and she couldn't risk it falling into the wrong hands, not only due to the magic but it contained knowledge of the future. What was she going to do?

As carefully as she could, as to not alert them to any movement beneath her cloak, she reached for her beaded bag, removed it from the pocket and very carefully slipped it down her shirt and with it being tucked into her breeches, she didn't risk it falling out.

She came to a sudden stop when three men appeared before her, stepping out from behind trees and blocking her path. She took a step back, hearing more footsteps and she briefly looked over her shoulder seeing another four, all dressed in dark clothing, carrying swords and looking as though they could do with a wash.

"Why don't you give us what you're carrying and we'll let you go?"

Hermione didn't believe him. The glint in his eyes said otherwise and if she was going to die, she wasn't going down without a fight.

~000~000~000~

"Merlin! For God's sake, hurry up!" Arthur called, twisting to look over his shoulder and seeing that his idiot manservant had not only fallen behind, but he appeared to be having trouble with his horse.

It had been Sir Leon's idea to give Merlin a different horse to the one he usually rode and with the excuse of him being groomed and tended to by the stable boy. And seeing as Arthur did so enjoy to mess with Merlin, he hadn't taken much convincing. As it was, this horse didn't seem to like Merlin, refusing to do as Merlin wished and it had even tried to buck him off once or twice, which had been quite the sight and earned quite the raucous laughter from his travelling companions.

"It's not my fault, it's the horse; it doesn't like me!" His manservant argued.

"Well, Cedar obviously has excellent taste," he replied and his fellow Knights laughed loudly. "The horses are trained exceptionally well, don't blame them for your stupidity...What was that?"

"What was what?" Merlin asked innocently.

Arthur sent him a baleful glance and ignored Merlin's smile as he turned to face forward. He honestly hoped they came across something soon. There'd been reports of a group of bandits terrorising the pathway that not only led to Camelot but several villages, too. Seeing as it had been going on for months now, Arthur had put together a group of Knights to ride with him out of Camelot and in search of the bandits to put an end to it once and for all.

They'd travelled a day so far and with the sky darkening and the night setting in, he knew they'd have to find someone to set up camp and rest for the night, before continuing with the journey the following morning. Taking another glance over his shoulder, he saw Sir Brennis and Sir Geraint as they rode beside one another, seeming to be in an intense conversation whilst Sir Leon was behind them and as usual Merlin was last, struggling to keep up.

"Merlin! We haven't got all day," Arthur called to him and the look the manservant gave in return, Arthur was sure would melt silver and he felt his mouth twitch in amusement.

Seeming to have had enough of his taunts, Merlin kicked his horse and a sudden panicked look crossed his face and the horse rose up on his back legs and then he took off in a gallop, Merlin letting out a cry and hanging onto the reins for dear life when he raced past all four of them and took the lead, his fellow Knights bursting with laughter.

Arthur let out a sigh; honestly, he didn't know how Merlin would survive without him.

Not wanting his manservant to die by horse, Arthur lightly kicked his own mare and she picked up speed, following after Merlin at a more controlled pace.

"Arthur!" He heard Merlin call.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What Merlin? Did you fall off your horse again!" He called back, the Knights behind him sniggering.

"Arthur!" He called again, but this time he noted the tone of panic in his voice.

Arthur knew his manservant and though he would never admit it aloud, he knew that Merlin, despite being useless and clumsy, was one of the bravest people he'd ever met. Hearing the clear panic in his voice, Arthur kicked his mare a little harder and she took off in a gallop, his Knights quickly following him.

Arthur soon reached Merlin, seeing him a little ways down from his horse and he was crouched down on the floor. Arthur grabbed the reins of Cedar before he could run off and Sir Leon appeared beside him, taking them from him whilst Sir Brennis took the reins on his mare, and he dismounted with his hand on the hit of his sword as he cautiously approached.

"Merlin, what is it?" He asked his manservant.

Merlin looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide and his face horrified. With this movement, Arthur saw what Merlin's body was blocking, a figure lying on the ground. As he grew closer, he saw it to be too small to be male and there was a head of bushy, wild hair.

"Arthur, it's Hermione," Merlin muttered.

Arthur felt his head swimming with fog, his stomach dropped and his chest tightened painfully as he stumbled back in his steps, being caught and righted by Sir Leon. Sparing him a glance, he saw the horses had been taken care of and Sirs Brennis and Geraint were stood beside Sir Leon, each of them looking between him and Merlin confused.

"Hermione?"

As the name fell from Sir Leon's mouth, something inside Arthur seemed to snap and he found himself shrugging off the man's hand on his shoulder and he lunged forward, falling to the ground on his knees beside Merlin and all but shoving him out of the way. He reached for the shoulders of the woman and give her a gentle tug, pulling her towards him and rolling her onto her back.

Merlin was right. It was Hermione. His face morphed into horrified terror. What in the name of God was she doing there? What had happened to her?

His eyes searched, seeing a cut on her forehead that was dribbling blood, a split in her lip and a larger pool of blood soaking through the sleeve of her right upper arm. She had scrapes on her palms, leaves and broken twigs embedded in her hair and her clothing was dirty.

He removed his riding gloves and reached out, his hand touching her face and he drew it back quickly when he felt how cold she was.

"Get me something to cover her with, quickly!" Arthur ordered, his voice rather snappish. His Knights blinked dumbly but as one they all rushed to their horses and searched their saddlebags.

Annoyed with how long it was taking them, Arthur reached up and unclasped his cape, setting the thick red fabric over Hermione's form and bending to lift her into his arms, holding her against him so only the bottom half of her body remained on the cold ground.

"Hermione," he muttered softly.

There was no response. He looked to Merlin, seeing his usually composed manservant staring at Hermione with the same expression of horror, his eyes wide and worried, his mouth parted slightly and his hand held out and hovering, as if he wanted to touch her but didn't dare.

"Hermione," he said a little louder and giving her a gentle shake in his hold.

A sudden groan sounded from her and his eyes snapped to her face, seeing her eyes moving beneath her eyelids before they slowly fluttered open, her dark, beautiful eyes locking on his.

"Arthur?" She muttered, sounding tired and confused.

"It's me, Hermione," he replied softly, his hand coming up to gently cup her face, turning her head back to him when he saw it tilting to the other side. "You're safe now, I promise."

"We really must stop meeting like this," she said, her voice a little louder now that she seemed to be waking up and he found himself chuckling.

"We must," he agreed. "What happened? What are you doing out here? You should be at Ealdor."

"Surprise,"

"Surprise?" He questioned confused.

"I promised I'd return to Camelot."

Arthur felt his breath leave him and a smile threatened to take over his face but he squashed it down, needing to focus on her and not his own thoughts and feelings.

"I was looking for somewhere to rest for the night and then..."

"What happened, Hermione? I need you to tell me."

She frowned, as if she couldn't remember which was possible, especially if she'd bumped her head.

"Bandits,"

Arthur's heart seemed to stop at that single world. He was going to kill every single one of them.

"How many of them?" He asked, trying to keep the anger from his voice, trying to remain calm.

"Seven, eight, I can't remember. There were too many of them, they took everything, my bags, my cloak, my mother's necklace..." She said, her hand coming up to her throat and he looked down, seeing the faint marks were it looked as though a chain had been ripped from her neck. "It was all I had left of her."

Arthur's jaw clenched tightly. "When did this happen, where did they go?"

"Back that way, I think," she replied, tilting her head back a little to gesture they'd gone in the direction they'd been travelling in. "I don't know how long ago, it was just getting dark."

That wasn't that long ago! Less than half an hour, at most.

"They were on foot."

Even better, he thought. They could catch up to them a lot quicker with the horses and if luck was on his side, they might've set up camp for the night. Arthur hoped they had.

He looked to his Knights, ignoring their looks of surprise at the gentle way he was speaking and interacting with Hermione, and he said,

"Get the horses, we're going after them."

"But, Sire, it is dark..."

"Get the horses, we're going after them now!" He snapped, seeing them startle at his tone. "They're on foot, they've got a half an hour head start on us at most, with the horses we can catch up to them and if they've camped for the night, we'll take them by surprise."

They blinked slowly.

"This ends now!"

Understanding that he'd made up his mind, the three Knights turned and untied their horses, mounting them and preparing to head into battle.

"I'll be back soon," he promised Hermione, running a finger down her cheek and her eyes closed, her head tilting into the touch.

"Be careful, I'm not quite up to patching you up if you get injured," she replied tiredly.

"I'll be careful," his mouth twitched. "Merlin will watch over you until I get back," he said, looking to his manservant with such a terrifying glare, Merlin simply kept his mouth shut and nodded.

Carefully, he shifted her weight into Merlin's arms and then stood and quickly mounted his horse, sending her into a straight gallop as they raced down the pathway, their eyes and ears watching and listening for any sign of the bandits.

The longer it took to find them, the faster the anger within him built until white-hot fury burst before his eyes and all he could think about was seeing Hermione's injured, unconscious form and that he planned on killing everyone involved. By the time ten minutes had passed, Arthur could feel himself shaking in anger and he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, trying to focus.

"Sire, we're not going to..." Sir Brennis never finished his words as Arthur glared murderously over his shoulder.

They rode for a few more minutes before the flames of a fire could be seen up ahead and loud voices could be heard laughing and cheering. It was them, he knew it.

He dismounted his horse and quickly tied her to a tree before pulling his sword and walking forward, having no such plans of trying to sneak up on them or take them off guard. He wanted them to see him coming. He wanted them to know they were going to die that night and by his hand.

Everything seemed to happen all at once and before Arthur knew it, he'd entered their makeshift camp and had taken out the first man before he'd even drawn his sword. The second quickly followed with the metal clashing and then Arthur driving his sword through his chest. Not once did feelings of regret surface.

Two came at him at once but were quickly intercepted by Sirs Brennis and Geraint, and a third was blocked by Sir Leon. Arthur headed for the largest of the group, he was more than likely to be the leader of the bandits and as he stood by the fire pit, his face was lit up by the flames and Arthur could see the fear in his expression.

Good, he thought.

Arthur charged at him and as metal clashed and they danced around one another, it was clear to him he was the best swordsman out of the group, but still not good enough for a Knight who'd been training since he was old enough to hold a sword.

He fell to the ground in a heap of limbs and Arthur turned around, his eyes scanning the camp as he breathed heavily and he wiped at his forehead with his sleeve. Seven bodies littered the ground. Arthur couldn't find it in himself to care.

His eyes wandered in search of Hermione's belongings and they landed on two satchels by a tree stump, Moving over to them and kneeling down, he found them both to be empty and then his eyes moved to the fire, seeing the fabric in place of firewood; they'd burned her clothing and her cloak, too. He could see crumbs of what looked to be bread and cheese, as well as an empty waterskin. They'd burned her clothing and eaten her food.

"Sire?"

Arthur drew his eyes away from the fire and to Sir Leon, his eyebrow raising when he saw what he held in his hand; it looked to be a white pillowcase with a length of rope tying it closed, though it was clear there were objects inside, but the most curious item was the sword he held. Standing, he crossed to Sir Leon and took it from him.

He'd honestly never seen anything like it and it truly was a masterpiece. The sword itself was lightweight and perfectly balanced, seeming to be made of a material he'd never before seen. The blade was silver and inscribed with 'Godric Gryffindor' on either side of the blade, and the hilt of the sword looked to be made of gold and upon closer inspection, he could see it had been carved with a roaring lion. Now, if that wasn't impressive, a large ruby sat atop the hilt and two smaller ones sat on the right and left of the guard. It was a sword fit for a King.

"Is it hers?" Sir Brennis asked.

Arthur honestly wasn't sure, but it had been found with her clothing and there didn't appear to be anything else stolen from others the bandits may have come across. But if it was hers, why did she have it? Did she steal it? Or did it truly belong to her, in which, he was positive she'd be of nobility? The thought had his mouth twitching into a smile. One could hope.

"Did you find a necklace?" He asked, ignoring the previous question.

"I've got it," Sir Geraint drew his attention, showing him the silver chain that hung from his fist, and from the distance Arthur noted that it looked similar to the earrings Hermione wore, so he was certain the necklace belonged to her, but the other items he'd have to ask after.

"Do what you can about with the cleanup and I'll return to Merlin and Hermione and set up camp for the night."

"Sire? Who is she?" Sir Brennis asked, but again, it went unanswered.

Arthur collected the empty satchels, placed the pillowcase in one along with the necklace and he carried them and the sword back to his horse. He untied her and then mounted the saddle, leaving the three Knights behind as he returned to Hermione and Merlin. He hadn't even been gone for half an hour.

It hadn't taken him long to dispose of Hermione's attackers, get her justice for what had been done to her, and ensure that she was protected against them and that they'd never be able to hurt anyone again. It had been a productive half an hour.