Disclaimer: I own neither Merlin nor Harry Potter.

Snippet Thirteen

Title: The Lies We Tell

They need her to have a backstory.

Hermione's face scrunches at the thought but even she understands the necessity.

What she didn't imagine though is the amount of revisions, practice and commentaries it would take before they deem her acting acceptable.

Some mornings and afternoons, they'd visit her room and have her practice. More often than not though, it takes their nightly rendezvous to get things done.

For this evening, she'd transfigured a piece of wood into a chaise lounge for her and Gwen. Meanwhile, the boys opted to lay a picnic mat by the girls' feet, enjoying the effect of the warming spell she'd casted for them.

Hermione Jean Granger, a child of noble blood, got separated from her true parents by the happenings at war. She found herself in the refuge and care of a childless yet caring King Sirius Black of Gryffindor. It didn't take long before the two found family in each other, and the king who had grown so fond, took it upon himself to call and raise her as his own, giving her the new title and name.

They were later joined by the king's godchild, Harry James Potter, when his parents were lost in the same war. The adopted princess and prince grew up closer than siblings in blood, wreaking havocs and making mischiefs in the castle, giving the old king grey hairs.

With bond as tight as theirs, no one was surprised that when Prince Harry had to leave in quest to end the war, the princess joined and disappeared with him.

It took years of fighting before they managed to return. Lives were lost and prices were paid from all sides, but theirs won triumphant in the end.

And now their kingdom is at peace. People are once again able to roam around the town without fearing attacks. Prince Harry, only enjoying their freedom, had proposed to one Lady Ginevra Weasley.

News of their engagement had called for celebration. And e ver the loving sibling, Princess Hermione had taken it upon herself to journey across far off lands in search of the perfect gift for the happy couple. It's only an unfortunate event that they stumbled upon assassins sent to kill her. Her skillful guards and her own experience fighting for survival in the last war allowed her time to escape. She'd been hoping to find shelter but her body eventually gave up in exhaustion.

That's how Prince Arthur found her in Essetir, and that's how she knew how to fight, an advantage that allowed her to save the prince's life when they had to fight the mummified beasts.

"So what do you think?" Hermione asks, feeling very much hopeful when her tale ended.

A witch can only recall so much from her mother's muggle soap operas and her former dorm mates' romantic novellas for witches before she's tempted to bang her head on the wall.

And judging by the brilliant smile Gwen is giving her, Hermione thinks she has great reason to believe she's finally done it this time.

"It's very good. Easy to grasp, yet impressive enough to gain intrigue. It also supports what they already know about you," Merlin comments without looking up, his dark brows still furrowed at the needle he's holding between his two fingers.

Hermione beams with pride when his magic flows into it and it starts to transform into a daffodil, making Gwen and Arthur clap in delight.

But Merlin's eyes found hers then, and he gave her a smile so wide, her heart pours out for him.

Some nights she still couldn't believe Emrys of all people had asked her, Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire, to teach him magic. She'd never received a more humble request in all her life. But having been told the kind of reactions the citizens and monarchs have on magic users like them, Hermione understands how difficult it can be to learn the simplest spells and instantly agreed. She had been too overwhelmed at the thought, that she failed to notice the extreme look of gratitude the prince threw her way that moment.

"It's alright," chips in the said prince from her right after they got over the display of magic and congratulated their friend. Though with the way his ocean blue eyes shine a light with what the brightest witch of her age could now recognize as sadistic glee, Hermione could only groan and bury her face in her palms while Gwen pitifully pats her arm for support.

Between the two men of legends, Merlin has more experience in making the truth sound like a lie. But it's Arthur who's been raised in the presence of Camelot's court and Uther. So it makes sense that the prince has more to say to get her tweaking parts in their little web of lies.

It became a unique form of bonding between the true and the pretend royal, and what better to test each other's temper than to argue points for bloody fiction?

Leaning sideways with an elbow pressed on the mat, the prince plucks a grape from the picnic basket and plops it into his mouth, chewing before he continues his point. "It's believable, sure, but remember that you have to be convincing when you tell it. Maybe add some tears. That'd get their hearts. That way, they'll be too sympathetic to further question you."

"Say what now?" Hermione snaps, annoyed and glaring daggers at the prince, the wand twisting in her hand in a perfectly clear tell that prince of Camelot of not, she's not above hexing Arthur into oblivion.

The prince chuckles tensely.

Funny how in the short amount of time they were getting to know each other, the royal was quick to learn better, grabbing a startled warlock to hide away from her wrath.

Last time he doubted aloud how long the time travelling witch could last if they take away her wand, she vanished only to reappear right behind him, startling him with a murmured boo that made him jump in the air so high in high pitched fright. If that wasn't enough, he also had to sleep with green hair that night.

The movement threw the warlock's concentration off guard and made him drop the needle, and suddenly there were two pairs of eyes glaring daggers at the prince.

Gwen's melodious laughter fills the air at the trio's antics.

Shaking her head in fond amusement, Hermione just rolls her eyes and levitates the needle, returning it to a pissed off warlock while Arthur has the audacity to smile and look sheepish.

.

.

.

Finally, the long awaited day has arrived.

Sometimes Arthur does wonder if he'd been cursed to fall asleep with his soul left stuck in a very, very realistic dream. It surely feels like it, and if it's true, it wouldn't even be the first time he'd received the retribution of an angry sorceress or two.

Leon had once complimented him on how he's able to face the world headstrong even when everything he's been raised to believe is being questioned and attacked at every turn.

As if it isn't difficult enough to realize and accept that all his years and hard work spent trying to make his king father proud had been a ginormous mistake and that the souls they'd slaughtered were innocent victims of a man's misguided hatred and fear. And as if it isn't mind boggling enough to learn that his best friend, his idiot manservant of all people, apparently is the living embodiment of magic itself in addition to being a warlock of destiny and a dragon lord to boot.

One would think these are more than enough for Arthur's poor exhausted brain, but no, they just had to come across a time travelling witch from a time that is yet to come, leaving the prince with just one thought.

'Will wonders never cease?'

If only his king father knows what's really going on under his roof, Arthur has no doubt he'll be accused of treason and associating with magic wielders. They might even dethrone him on the spot. That is, if they don't start spreading rumors about their prince losing his sanity.

Insane, on top of a grand adventure, seems to be the apt description to everything that's been going on in his life since meeting Merlin after all. And what's even crazier, is how he wouldn't trade it, not for the world, and certainly not for the throne.

Perhaps one day, Arthur would face the punishments of his and his father's sins and all the lies and deceit he's been guilty of committing. Perhaps one day, he would have to beg for forgiveness for all the lives unjustly taken in the name of Pendragon. Perhaps one day, he'd face trials and judgements from his own lords and courts and people. Arthur could only pray he would be ready and had already done enough to better Albion when that day comes.

Justice must be served, even if it means punishment for him.

His people deserve no less and he would willingly subject himself to their judgement and ridicule if it means his people could go on without bitterness and anger in their hearts. His father had done enough causing grief and destroying lives, and if his people could be appeased even a little by Arthur's surrender to their own laws, then he'd gladly do it.

Maybe he'll receive forgiveness, or maybe not. It isn't really up to him, he knows, but he could still try.

But for now, those things would have to wait. For now, he could only make do with what's in front of him and that is to live in the moment with an open mind and let himself be influenced by people who share the same belief that magic isn't evil but a mere tool used by the wielder. It is no different from his sword that could be used to save or to hurt.

It's a good start as any in the prince's humble opinion. It wouldn't lessen the deaths on his hands, no. But it would certainly stop adding to the number. Realizing it late had almost caused him a great friend who's closer than a brother, and Arthur will be damned before he makes the same mistake again.

For now, he'll bear the guilt of lying to his king father once more as the guards open the door for their latest guest and the herald makes the announcement.

"Presenting Princess Hermione Jean Granger-Black of Gryffindor!"

.

.

Standing in line in a show of respect, their knights certainly have no qualms committing to the lie. The prince even saw Gwaine wink in a poor attempt to get the girl's attention. Only her doe eyes are trained on his king father and him, and Arthur, for his part, couldn't help but feel a pint of pride and awe for how regally and gracefully she's able to present herself before the throne, keeping her chin up and head held high, a painting perfect smile on her face as she moves with poise and dignity that even Morgana would envy.

Merlin had informed him earlier that Gwen and Hermione had spent hours brainstorming and joining forces of manual labor and magic to prepare the dress she's now wearing. And while Arthur has never been one to care about female clothing, even he finds it hard not to appreciate the unique aesthetic of her blue-grey silk gown embroidered with rose flowers on the chest and sleeves, with the lower half portion cut to part like curtains, revealing the gold of her balloon skirt.

If the effect they aim for is to have the whole room entranced, then they'd certainly succeeded.

All eyes in the room are focused on her and her alone.

"Thank you for having me, your grace," Hermione- (No, Arthur remembers to correct himself) -Princess Hermione tells his king father, gracing them with a curtsy and offering her hand first to his king father in accordance to the rules of propriety. It was over soon which means it was his turn to be addressed by her.

"Prince Arthur," she greets, to which he responds with addressing her back.

"Princess Hermione," he says, kissing the bone of her knuckles.

Catching her doe eyes sparkling bright with concealed humor, Arthur has to fake a cough to disguise his own amusement.

"While my arrival here had been brought by unfortunate events, your generosity and warm welcome has helped me greatly to recover and be able to stand again on my feet. So if you would allow, your grace, I, in behalf of my own kingdom, would like to repay your good deeds as Gryffindor practice dictates..."

At her words, the whole court started murmuring in curious wonder.

Arthur watched as Uther fought surprise to give his consent.

With a radiant smile, Hermione turned to signal the guard to open the door a second time since her arrival, this time to reveal Merlin carrying what appears to be an antique box.

Athur's did wonder where his manservant had been loitering. His face contorted in curious wonder, not having been privy to this part of her presentation.

"Your brave knights were able to find one of our ruined carriages and retrieved what were left of my things," Hermione divulges, the lie coming out so smoothly, it sounded very much like the truth.

The smirks Arthur found on his knights and the mirthful grin on his own manservant tells him that this has all been a recent arrangement.

"Prior to Prince Arthur finding me in the forest, I had been travelling with my guards and servants across lands to look for a gift for my brother's engagement. Unfortunately, we've been tracked and caught by assassins. My guards managed to allow me time to escape. But as your knights must have informed you, there are reasons to believe that they, with everyone else in my entourage, were slayed..." Her voice had softer, even cracking at the end, her eyes shining with unshed tears and if Arthur doesn't know the truth, then he'd have easily believed her too.

His king father discretely elbowed him just then, but it was hard enough for Arthur to choke. He did understand what his father was trying to convey and approach the princess to offer her his handkerchief.

"Thank you, Prince Arthur," she says, a drop of tear falling to her cheeks that makes the whole room freeze when their prince, unable to help himself, dries it with the back of his own fingers.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't- I don't know what came over me, I-" he hurries to say, stuttering apologies in shock of his own action that he fails to notice the twinkling hope in his king father's eyes at their display.

"It's perfectly alright. Thank you for your concern," is Hermione's kind response, recovering from her own surprise.

Laughter came from the knights but both royals are determined to ignore them.

Still looking a bit shaken, she gave a soft nod to Merlin, the signal for him to gently set the box on the floor.

With approval from the king, two knights came and opened it, revealing an assortment of high valued trinkets, gems and armors never been seen in Camelot before, drawing awed eyes and jaw drops from the court and sealing their belief that this girl is royalty in blood, right and stature.

But the brightest witch of her age isn't done yet.

Exchanging a determined look with Arthur and Merlin, she steels herself, knowing that the real show is only just about to begin the moment they leave this room and news of her identity spreads across and beyond the borders of Camelot.

It has been a huge relief that she always keeps her extendable charmed beaded bag with her. It's been a lot of help that she's prepared enough to carry a lump sum of her war heroine grants and a portion of her Black inheritance that even these gifts to the king wouldn't create a dent to what she has. But if she has to name what she's most grateful for at this very moment when she has to lie in front of a full court and great men and woman of legends, from the bottom of her heart, Hermione will forever be thankful to Narcissa and Draco Malfoy for their lessons on presenting and handling oneself in pureblood social circles.

"I know these are just material things, and nothing I do could ever repay the prince for rescuing me, and you, your grace, for opening your home to an unknown stranger in need of help such as myself. But please accept them anyway as my sincere gratitude and as proverbial olive branch to show that I and my kingdom seek friendship with yours."

Somewhere above the clouds, the last of the three dragons is laughing midflight.

"Destiny," he says to his younger friend flying alongside him. "They sure know how to pick the lot."

A/N: Review if you find it worth the while :) Thanks for reading!