Enjoy!
In Which Hermione Puts Prince Arthur in his Place... sort of.
Close to where Hermione was having an existential crisis at the Druid camp, there was a small farmer village called Ealdor. While it was usually a peaceful place full of hard working peasants, on this particular day they were fighting against a band of mercenaries under an awful man named Kanen. Merlin was there, along with Prince Arthur, the Lady Morgana and Gueneviere trying to fend off the mercenaries and clearly failing at it.
In a desperate bid to turn the tide, Merlin summoned a whirlwind which wreaked havoc on Kanen's forces and allowed the makeshift army of three days to win the battle. Kanen was killed, and finding themselves without a leader, the surviving mercenaries fled. They ran into the forest and straight into the Druid camp, which even though it was protected against magical threats, it was vulnerable to physical attacks. The mercenaries stormed into the camp, slashing at anyone who got in their way with their swords, while some other attempted to take women, trying to regain their lost pride.
Hermione, still in the tent, heard the screams of the Druids and ran out to find a massacre taking place. With the tears still fresh on her cheeks, Hermione decided she would not stand still and allow it to continue. She caught a glimpse of Dival and Alaric trying to defend the children, while other members of the clan used branches to defend themselves from the mercenaries, but tree branches are nothing against swords.
Hermione, having grown up in a Wizarding World riddled with intrigue and war, was well aware that the best defense was a good offense. Ron taught her that.
She spread her magic around the camp like a blanket, feeling it envelope her in warmth. She asked it to attack, and her lips moved of her own accord, "Andfeng." She saw the tendrils of her magic lash out at the attackers, tripping them up, smashing them against trees. "Astrice," she directed towards the last of the offenders, sending them flying against different objects and knocking them out. "Lesan," she commanded, and the bandits were rounded up in the center of the camp, where she proceeded to tie them up with rope. They tried to fight against the ropes, yelling obscenities at her the whole time, and Hermione's tempered flared along with her magic. Smyltnes, she said, and as if pressing the mute button on a remote control, their voices quieted even when their mouths were still moving. That only seemed to enrage them further and their faces turned red as they attempted to outshout the spell, but still their voices were silent.
Slowly, from the trees, people started creeping back into the camp. A lot of the men were dead on the floor; the elder who she had come to see lying lifeless on the ground, staring at her with unseeing eyes. A lot of the women hastily ran to their tents in an attempt to regain their modesty, and Hermione hoped against hope that these men hadn't done anything but rip off their clothes. Seeing them like that brought back flashes of Fenrir Greybck, leering at her with the intent of raping her, and she threw up right where she stood. A hand pushed her hair out of the way, and when she put herself back together, she saw Alaric was looking at her with concern.
The oldest man in the camp to survive, Tanreid, approached her. He would be acting as the Eldest until the emergency passed. The women who were still out and about brought linen sheets to cover the bodies, the children were ushered to the river by a couple of older ladies who his away during the attack, and the survivors convened around the fireplace.
"We don't condone the use of magic for violent acts," Tanreid said in a clear voice, "but Hermione was only made a druid a few months ago, so on this occasion, and seeing how her quick thinking saved a lot of lives which would have been otherwise lost, we will overlook this violation. However, Hermione, next time we might not be so forgiving."
Hermione bowed her head, feeling properly chastised. She had broken their golden rule, and while she got used to breaking the rules with Harry and Ron over the years, she had never liked it. Alaric patted her shoulder, as if to comfort her albeit a little awkwardly.
"Who are these men? Where did they come from?" Dival asked, who Hermione was relieved to see had also survived.
"They work for Kanen," Tanreid replied, "he raids small villages around the area, takes their food and their women. I don't know why they're here."
"It looked like they were running away from something, somewhere," Hermione mused.
"The only village close enough to this camp is Ealdor, but they have always cooperated with Kanen. He has them well threatened," another druid, a young teen with fire in his eyes, declared with disdain.
"Put yourself in their shoes, Roland," Tanreid said.
"If I was in their shoes, I would fight," the teen, Roland, spat, "we have magic, we could defend these people, just like she did."
"We could still go and help them," Hermione pipped in, "we could heal them."
"We don't meddle with their affairs, and they don't meddle with ours," Tanreid said with a shake of his head.
"Isn't this your affair now? They brought their conflict to you," Dival retorted.
"I'm sure they didn't mean to. Right now, we have to tend to our wounded," Tanreid said with finality and people started to disperse.
"In that case, we will take our leave. They expect us back at our camp," Hermione pipped in.
"You have my blessing," Tanreid replied, "your elder will understand why we cannot send supplies now, but be assured that the supplies you brought will be very helpful to us in this situation." He bowed in farewell, as well as Hermione, Dival and Alaric, and the three of them took their leave.
After they were ways away from the wards, Dival and Alaric stopped, but Hermione carried on.
"I thought I told you we didn't need to walk all the way," Dival said in an attempt at being humorous and relieve the tension.
"I'm not going back just yet," Hermione replied, "I'm going to Ealdor."
"Why?" Alaric asked, puzzled.
"They need help. The druid camp might not want to get involved, but we are not part of this camp, and I didn't grow up in the ways of the druids," Hermione countered, never stopping.
After a few minutes, she heard their footsteps resume after her. They arrived at Ealdor within the hour, to find it in ruin. There was smoke, broken fences, destroyed houses, and bodies of men littering the floor. But what Hermione wasn't expecting, was to find Merlin and Prince Arthur at the site. The prince was bellowing, red in the face.
"Who did that? Wind like that doesn't appear from nowhere. I know magic when I see it," the prince was yelling. Hermione felt the urge to punch him. She saw a man behind the prince with a crossbow. He shot at the prince. A man next to Merlin shouted a warning, but it would have been too late. Hermione shot out her hand, and the arrow stopped hovering right in front of Arthur's chest.
"Magic just saved your life twice, Arthur Pendragon," Hermione said, loud and clear for everyone to hear.
Arthur got red in the face again, "You mean to say you did that?"
"I didn't say that, but because of your scuffle here with these men, our camp was raided and trashed. We have to defend ourselves somehow," Hermione retorted.
Arthur didn't know what to say. No one had ever challenged him like that before. The villagers were looking between them, wondering who'd win this battle of wills. Dival and Alaric kept their faces carefully neutral. Even Merlin looked aghast.
"Magic is illegal," Arthur finally said.
"Not here," Hermione replied firmly, "you are not within Camelot's borders, my lord, so your law doesn't apply here. Whoever did magic in your presence here is protected by the laws of this kingdom, unless of course, you want to start a war."
"Magic is evil," Arthur seethed, not wanting to acknowledge that this woman of all people was right.
"Right, so I'll take that to assume you don't want our help healing your injured?" Hermione asked, and then shrugged, "that's why we came here instead of staying in the camp to aid our brethren; to offer assistance. If you don't want it, then we'll leave."
Arthur was relived to hear that, even if he didn't show it, but one of the women of the village approached Hermione with a gash on her arm. Arthur knew that woman would never move that arm normally again. The woman presented Hermione with her arm, and Hermione smiled at her reassuringly.
"It's going to be alright," she assured, and placed her hand above the wound, "Þurhhæle dolgbenn."
Arthur had a warning on his lips, very much intending to save this woman's life, but much to his confusion, the woman didn't cry out in pain as he expected. Instead, he saw right in front of his eyes how the skin came together and mended, disappearing as if it had never been there. If he had seen Hermione's eyes, he would have noticed their golden glow. When she finished, the woman tried moved her wrist and her fingers, and exhaled relieved when she could move them freely.
"Are you going to arrest me, sire?" Hermione asked, defiantly, to a gaping Arthur.
Arthur just stormed into Hunith's house, determined to pack his things and leave to a place where things made sense.
As soon as Arthur left, Merlin approached her. "That was very stupid," he chastised, "brave, but stupid."
"I didn't lie," Hermione retorted, making Merlin flinch, "I know that if someone here did something, it was you. I just saved your life."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Merlin glared.
"I know exactly what I'm talking about," Hermione retorted with a glare of her own, "I will not be ashamed of my gifts, and I will use them to the benefit of the people, just the way it should be."
"That way of thinking will get yourself killed," Merlin argued.
"Then so be it," Hermione said with finality, moving on to the line of villagers that had formed in front of Dival and Alaric. Most of the wounds were superficial, and as such they got tonics and potions they had brought with them. Only a man with a concussion and a woman with a broken leg got a spell to treat their wounds. When it was over, Hermione noticed that there were two women on the sidelines talking to Arthur and Merlin who she hadn't noticed before.
She approached them, curious about who they were. As soon as she was within reach, Arthur put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Not everyone with magic is after your life, Arthur Pendragon," she said, giving a nod to acknowledge the two women there. She extended her hand, "my name is Hermione, nice to meet you."
"You're that girl they found in the woods, aren't you?" the fair woman with dark hair asked, "I'm Morgana, King Uther's ward."
Hermione's eyes widened in realization, and she curtsied immediately to hide her face, "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady."
Was this the woman who would become Merlin's nemesis? She seemed so nice, which was jarring compared to the image Hermione had expected of her. She had pictured her a bit more like Bellatrix Lastrange. She wondered how Morgana turned to evil and if she could prevent it. She pushed the thought aside and rose up, looking at the dark-skinned woman hoping that the Lady Morgana wouldn't read anything on her expression.
The dark-skinned woman eyed her with open suspicion.
"I'm Guinevere," she said, taking Hermione's hand briefly, as if afraid that brief contact would burn her. Hermione barely suppressed the urge to swoon. This was the future Queen of Camelot. She's always pictured her as a princess, but oh well...
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Hermione replied, "if that's all you need, we'll take our leave."
"Don't come to Camelot, again," Arthur warned at her back.
"With all due respect, sire, I didn't go to Camelot in the first place. You brought me there," Hermione reminded the prince, whose eyes widened and his face paled, "and you would do well to remember that today magic saved your life twice, Arthur Pendragon."
With that, Hermione, Dival and Alaric walked into the woods, where they transported themselves home to their camp in Caerleon. They delivered the bad news with a heavy heartto the Elder, who announced it sadly at supper and urged the people to pray for the souls of the fallen. The trio wisely kept their intervention in Ealdor to themselves.
Mordred launched himself to Hermione and hugged her tight. She noticed that he was trembling, probably shaken by the news of the attack in the other camp and knowing that she was in danger. Hermione hugged him back tightly.
"I'm okay," she reassured him, "I'm here."
He didn't reply, and instead wiped at his face attempting to hide his tears. Hermione didn't call him out on it and both walked to sit by the fire. If Mordred sat closer to her that night, Hermione didn't mention it.
As another month sloth-ed by in relative peace, Hermione saw Mordred grow into a more confident boy. He was actively seeking out the other kids now, and showing that he had strong opinions just about anything. That, or he really liked to argue. Hermione found herself overcome with a fierce sense of protectiveness towards him, and knowing that his fate depended on her scared her. What if she screwed it all up? Still, when Mordred looked up from the game looking for her, she smiled and ushered him on. She didn't share her worries for her, because what would that help? She was determined to be a figure Mordred could rely on after her own experiences with absent, neglectful, uncaring or downright cruel adults put her in danger in too many ocassions.
She recalled that Mordred had been in Camelot already, and she wondered if he'd already met the Lady Morgana.
"Oh, I know her," Mordred exclaimed, his eyes turning bright at the mention of the Lady and Hermione's chance encounter with her, "she hid me in her room while the king was looking for me. She saved me."
Hermione smiled tightly, "What did you think of her?"
"Well, she was nice. She often stroked my hair and tended to the wound in my arm. She argued with the prince on my behalf, you know, and convinced him to smuggle me out," Mordred recounted.
"She did?" Hermione asked, prompting him to continue the retelling of his time in Camelot while Hermione pondered this new information.
The Lady Morgana wasn't evil, at least not yet, and Mordred didn't seem to think she had any magical abilities. Perhaps, because she lived in Camelot and constantly saw the executions of magical people, her magic was attempting to protect her by hiding in her. That could prove to be disastrous in the future, as magic was prone to lash out if it wasn't used, especially while emotions were heightened. She wondered if there was still some hope for her.
Hermione shooed Mordred away soon after because of her apprenticeship with Agrona. Mordred whined because, just like all the children in the camp with magical abilities, he had to go to Iseldir to train his magic. Mordred didn't like it because, at the moment, they were working on meditations and control. It was very boring, according to him. It caused Hermione to wonder if having a wand made control easier and people lazier; her theory was that as time went on and wizards found easier, more effortless ways of accessing magic, they lost the ability to sense it around them. Perhaps it caused magic to recede as well, kind of like making itself smaller, in order to fit in the wands and their cores. She made a mental note to research that if she could.
A few days later, the camp received a message from their brethren in Camelot, asking for asylum while the drought passed. Of course, the Elder sent an immediate reply welcoming them and Hermione helped prepare the camp with extra tents, blankets and the like in order to accommodate their guests. When the influx of Druids arrived, they went straight for the water and the food which had been laid out just for them. Sitting around the campfire, the newcomers shared the news from Camelot for everyone to hear.
"The Prince went hunting, which wasn't unusual. We always have to strengthen the wards and be very quiet when he goes hunting, which is often enough to be bothersome, and this time it was no different," a woman was retelling in between mouthfuls of food, "but this time he ran into a unicorn. Lyndon, who had guard duty then, saw it."
The man named Lyndon gushed, "It was the most majestic creature I have ever seen. I have never felt such peace in my entire life."
"In any case, the prince clearly thought so too, and that it would look even better as a trophy in his castle, because he shot it and sawed off the horn. Of course, everyone knows that killing a unicorn brings about a curse. Everyone but the prince because King Uther has only fed him lies about magic," the woman ranted, and Hermione sighed in aggravation.
She remembered, from her first year, what she learned in her first year at Hogwarts when they found that Voldemort had been drinking unicorn blood. Perhaps because the curse fell exclusively on him there wasn't a drought in Scotland? Or perhaps magic was that much weaker in the future, who knew... The point was that the prince's ignorance was causing more harm than good. She didn't really know him but she was again overcome with the urge to punch the git.
The Druids from Camelot stayed for a week and then returned to Camelot when word got around that the drought had passed. Hermione was puzzled, and she asked Alaric about it.
"But why don't they leave?" Hermione asked, "with Uther as king, they will always be in danger there"
"It's their home," Alaric answered, with a shrug.
Hermione didn't reply because she could relate to that feeling. Even when the threat of Voldemort had been looming over their heads, and she knew it would have been safer to continue her education in Beuxbatons or any other school, she'd refuse to leave Hogwarts behind. England was the place where she grew up, Hogwarts was where her friends were, and she would fight to defend it.
Alaric seemed to understand she needed a moment to herself, so he quietly left her to her musings. Ever since that day in Ealdor, Alaric had become a good friend. He was always ready to lend her a hand when she was bringing water from the stream, or making food, or sometimes just gathering herbs for the potions. He was a good listener, she realized, and he never judged her. He looked so serious all the time, that when he cracked his first joke in her presence, Hermione chortled and cackled until her stomach hurt. It was so unexpected to discover his subtle sense of humor, and she found herself enjoying his company.
Hermione sighed before returning to the potion at hand. It had become a light golden color, which meant she had to add the roots of rosemary and lavender. Then she had to stir twice clockwise and the medieval version of the Pepper Up potion would be ready. All of the sudden, Mordred came stomping towards her and sat down next to her, definitely not pouting.
Hermione chuckled, "What happened now?"
"Kara is being mean," Mordred said, crossing his arms.
"How so?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.
"She won't let me play," he answered, "she said only children without magic could, otherwise it was cheating."
"And is it cheating?" Hermione asked.
"Not if I don't use it," Mordred whined.
"Well, why don't you tell her that?"
"I did! But she still said I couldn't play," Mordred replied, but he wasn't meeting her eye.
"Is that the only thing you said?" Hermione prompted.
Mordred didn't answer for a couple of minutes, looking away from Hermione while worrying his lip. Finally, he caved, "I might have also called her a fat pig."
Hermione gasped, "Mordred! No wonder she didn't let you play if you were so rude to her."
"She started it," he whined, again.
"But you continued it. If someone wrongs you, but you retaliate, you stoop down to their level. I cannot go and scold Kara for not letting you play if you said something so horrible to her," Hermione explained.
Mordred looked put out, clearly expecting Hermione to side with him. Hermione sighed. She had gathered more experience in child rearing in the past few months than in her whole eighteen years of life.
"You should apologize," Hermione continued, "tell her you're sorry, that you won't say it again and that you will not use your magic to cheat if she lets you play. Maybe she'll forgive you."
Mordred's lip quivered slightly, "What if she doesn't?"
"Try again tomorrow, and the day after, until one day she will," Hermione answered, "but you have to show you are truly sorry, and be very careful so that it doesn't happen again."
"But she should apologize too!" Mordred demanded.
"She should, but I cannot go and demand an apology from her if you don't apologize as well. The both of you acted wrong, and the both of you should apologize. Yet, sometimes, when you make a peace offering, people will reciprocate in kind with an apology of their own. Do you want me to come with you?"
"No!" Mordred exclaimed, mortified, "they will know I told on them and they will never let me play again!"
Hermione chuckled, "Fine, I won't come with you, but you should still apologize."
Mordred remained silent for a moment, "Maybe I could help you bottle these herbs?"
"As long as you don't break any of the jars, you may," Hermione conceded, knowing that Mordred would apologize by dinner time but that now he needed to come to terms with what he had to do first. She noticed that he had a sweet disposition and was easily hurt, which he tried to mask with anger and hurtful words. They worked side by side for about an hour. While Mordred bottled and classified the herbs, Hermione finished more Pepper Up and the one that cured the stomach flu, as the cold season was slowly but surely creeping in.
Then, Hermione went to gather water for supper while Mordred went to gather the firewood with the other children. By the time Hermione got back and started helping with the stew, Mordred had returned holding Kara's hand and trying to balance all the firewood in his other. She smiled to herself.
The rest of the evening passed peacefully. Some of the men started singing and soon everyone joined. It reminded Hermione of songs around a bonfire, and the only missing element was the roasted marshmallows and the guitar. However, they had suitable replacements for those things in the middle ages. Some of the women brought out some drums made out of animal skin that looked very old, while others distributed some wild berries they had turned into sweet preserves. It wasn't the same, but it was just as enjoyable.
At some point, Mordred asked Kara to dance with him "like the adults" and Kara timidly accepted.
"They seem to like each other," Alaric said next to her, startling her out of her thoughts. Hermione turned to him.
"Yeah, they do, but at their age no one really knows what will happen in the future," Hermione mused.
"Maybe, but I know some people in the camp have wagers on them," Alaric said with a smirk. Hermione opened her mouth and pretended to be terribly offended.
"They're just children," she exclaimed, purposefully melodramatic, earning a chuckle from Alaric.
"Perhaps you would also like to dance with me 'like the adults'," Alaric asked, offering his hand.
Hermione hesitated. The only experience, if it could be called that, with dating had been Victor Krum in first year. And while she and Ron had danced around their feelings, nothing ever came of it. Now, a man whose company she enjoyed was asking her for a dance. The Elder of their brethren camp told her that she had to live. Did that mean accepting Alaric? Probably. What did that entail? Was she expected to have to marry at the end of the year? To have children and a family in two?
Did she want that?
She was mature, smart and level headed, despite her young age, and some might even consider her beautiful. Could she reciprocate Alaric's feelings? What would happen if she didn't? He was a good friend and she didn't want to lose him. Had she thought about what it would be like to have a future with him? Perhaps... but she'd always pictured herself older. At least twenty-three. On the other hand, she could certainly do worse, for sure.
She looked at him, at his earnest expression which he was trying to hide behind a sweet, small smile which faltered with every second that passed. Finally, using her gut more than her brain, she grabbed his hand and let him lead her to the impromptu dance floor the people had cleared on the dirt next to the campfire.
"I must ask, Alaric," Hermione asked, after a few twirls that didn't really match the rhythm played by the drums, "what are the druids customs when it comes to couples?"
Alaric blushed, which was as uncommon as to see the sky turn green, "I'm sure Aida could explain it better than I."
Hermione pursed her lips, "What I meant is that… I know in some places is customary to ask for a guardian's blessing before beginning a," Hermione hesitated. She wanted to say a relationship, but she felt it was too anachronistic and that Alaric might not understand what she meant, "formal courtship."
Alaric remained silent, as if not following her.
Hermione rephrased, "What do you want from me?"
"Well," Alaric started, and Hermione noticed his hand was slightly sweaty where it touched hers, "you are compassionate, caring and clever. You are brave, braver than any other person, man or woman, I've ever known. I also find you very pretty."
Hermione felt her cheeks warming up despite herself. No one had ever been outspoken about her qualities; Victor Krum was very quiet, never speaking much, and Ron was just oblivious, and this obliviousness caused him to say mean comments about her a lot. To hear someone praising her qualities was a new, not entirely unpleasant, experience for her.
She cleared her throat, "That doesn't answer my question."
"I would like to court you, if you'll allow me," Alaric continued after a beat, "because you're on your own, it's customary to ask the elder for the blessing."
"Why didn't you?" Hermione asked.
"I did, but as an honorary druid member, he said it was up to you," Alaric explained, "if you do accept my courtship, he will give us his blessing."
It should have been an indication to Hermione that she felt more warmth from knowing the Elder called her a honorary druid than hearing Alaric talking to her about courtship, but as intelligent as she was, she was also young and maybe just lonely enough to let herself fantasize about falling in love.
Gradually, the music died down and people shuffled sleepily to their tents. Hermione and Alaric remained where they were.
"I would like to accept your courtship," Hermione said after a little while, wondering if she was making a mistake.
Word spread quickly about their courtship. The next morning, Aida cornered her in their tent before Hermione left to do her chores.
"Well?" Aida asked, eyes wide and eager.
"Well what?" Hermione asked.
"Tell me about Alaric," Aida pressed, "when did you start looking at him like that, Mrs. Nobody-will-want-to-marry-me?"
"There's nothing to tell," Hermione replied with an eyeroll, "he asked me if I would accept his courtship and I said yes. It doesn't mean we'll get married yet."
"I know, but do you want to?"
Hermione sighed, "I don't know. I have never thought about marriage before, I'm still just seventeen."
Aida scoffed, "I know some women here who got married when they were fourteen. By their standards, you're already an old maid."
"By my standards I'm still just a child," Hermione retorted, "I'm just starting to enjoy my life here, and I would like to wait before making any major changes."
"Nobody is saying you have to marry tomorrow," Aida sighed, "but it's nice when a good man decides he wants to make a life with you. After all, you could do much worse."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Hermione scoffed, "I don't want to marry someone just because I could do worse in life. I want to marry someone I admire; someone I love and can look up to."
"And Alaric doesn't fit that criteria?"
"He could," Hermione said, "but the truth is we still don't know a lot about each other. He is a good listener and he has never judged me because of my past..."
"Which you still haven't told us much about, by the way," Aida interrupted. Hermione made a dismissive gesture with her hand.
"He respects my decisions and trusts my judgment, which is something I didn't expect when I got here, and he is a good man. He will be a perfect husband to someone... I'm just not sure if that someone is me."
"He likes you and you like him, why does it have to be more complicated than that?" Aida asked, "my mom always says that when my dad and her got married, they didn't know a lot about each other, but with time they grew to love each other very much. Marriage is not about finding the perfect person to be with, but making it work with the person you choose."
Speaking of whom, at that moment Adelaine barged into the tent and demanded why they hadn't started their respective chores. Knowing that there was no fighting against Aida's mother, Aida and Hermione quietly exited the tent and went to their different chores.
Hermione pondered over what Aida said while she went to air the linens. She understood on a basic level that the way she saw relationships was biased because she was born on the twenty-first century. She knew that marriage started as a way for women to find financial security and stability; that little was expected of them except to rear the children, and sometimes bear a male hair like in the case of royalty. She always disagreed vehemently with looking at marriage as a transaction. Who didn't want to be swept off their feet, after all? Who didn't want to marry for love?
Yet, what Aida said challenged her beliefs in a way she hadn't predicted. She had never stopped to think that perhaps there were women who craved that financial security and stability during unstable and troubled times. She had never considered that perhaps these women who married because it was convenient grew to love their husbands, and their husbands grew to love them as well.
But even if that was the case, Hermione wasn't from the middle ages and she didn't want to marry because it was convenient for her. Could she bear to become an old maid, though? If she didn't accept Alaric's courtship and eventual marriage proposal, would she be sealing her fate to a life of loneliness until she died?
Hermione glanced at Adeline, who was also airing the linens. Adeline looked fine. She was a short woman of a robust build. She was strong and her hands were calloused. She loved fiercely and without conditions, as proven by how she just took Hermione in without asking questions. But sometimes, when they sat around the fire for supper, Adeline's eyes would glaze over and she would clutch at a pendant in her neck like a lifeline. She never cried, though.
Hermione didn't know if she wanted to marry yet, though. One day in the future perhaps, but not now. Not when things were so uncertain and Mordred depended on her.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Mordred approached her but she didn't notice, so when he asked, she jumped, "Are you okay, Hermione?"
"I'm fine," Hermione replied, willing her racing heart to calm down and going back to airing some linen sheets.
"You've been airing the same sheet for a while now," Mordred remarked. He waited for a few seconds and then asked, "does this have to do with Alaric?"
Hermione sighed, "What did you hear?"
"I heard that he started courting you," Mordred replied, scuffing his shoe on the dirt, "and you didn't reject him."
"Does that bother you?" Mordred shrugged, but she could tell he wasn't being honest, "I'm not going to stop spending time with you even if Alaric is courting me."
Mordred looked up at her wide eyed, "But then you'll get married, and you'll have babies and then you won't have time to be with me anymore."
So much for not wanting to think about it anymore, Hermione thought to herself. She looked at Mordred, who resolutely refused to meet her eyes. From spending so much time with the Weasleys, but especially with Ron, she knew that sometimes a child felt insecure in their place when it came to older or younger siblings. She wondered if Mordred thought she would replace him.
"Maybe I will get married, and maybe I'll have children, and maybe I'll be more busy than usual," Hermione said slowly, and Mordred's shoulders slumped, "but I will make time for you, Mordred. Don't ever doubt that anyone could replace you."
He looked at her in the eye, as if he was searching for any indication she might be lying, and when he didn't find one, he gave a firm nod.
"Well, but he'd better treat you right," Mordred declared, "or else I'll put a toad in his trousers."
"Mordred!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling slightly.
Alaric, who had arrived just in time to hear that last part, laughed out loud, causing them both to look at him. Mordred turned red and scampered away, probably to find Kara, while Hermione simply shook her head and turned to Alaric. He, in turn, presented her with a small bouquet of wild flowers, clearly freshly picked.
"Good morning," he said, smiling at her.
"Good morning," Hermione said, taking the flowers and feeling a little awkward, "they're beautiful. Thank you."
"My pleasure," Alaric replied.
They stayed silent for a few minutes, just enough to make the pause very awkward. Alaric wrung his hands, while Hermione fidgeted with the flowers.
"Perhaps you would like to go on a walk with me," Alaric finally spoke.
"Sure," Hermione answered a tad too quickly, "but what about my chores?"
"I found someone to cover for us," Alaric supplied, "come, we can walk upstream."
He led the way and Hermione followed.
The last time she went on a date had been to the Slug Club with Cormac just to spite Ron. She'd seen other people on dates, but she doubted snogging the daylights out of someone would count as appropriate in medieval England.
"I don't know how to do this very well," Hermione decided to say, if anything to explain her awkwardness.
Alaric's shoulders sagged and he chuckled, "Me neither."
"So, what are we supposed to do now that we're courting?" Hermione asked, feeling stupid.
"We get to know each other better," Alaric said, "talk about our lives, about our expectations, our futures."
"Oh," Hermione said, feeling like a rock had fallen in the pit of her stomach, "so, tell me about your family."
He raised an eyebrow, "What do you want to know?"
"Are your parents…?" alive, she wanted to ask, but she hesitated because it would have been extremely rude.
"They died a few years ago," Alaric saved her the embarrassment, "there was a raid led by Arthur Pendragon where everyone was killed. I was fetching water by the river, so they didn't see me. Afterwards I came here, away from Camelot."
"I'm so sorry," Hermione replied, aghast.
"Me too. I should have gone back to help, but instead I hid and ran away."
"If you had gone back you would have been killed," Hermione countered, "you wouldn't have been able to win against the knights of Camelot."
"But I should have tried, like you," Alaric retorted, "when the mercenaries attacked that camp in Essetir, I thought I would die just like my parents. But then you saved us with your magic; you did what no one else wanted to do, what no one else could do. A lot of people owe you their lives, including myself."
"I only did what I had to do," Hermione replied feeling awfully self-conscious. Alaric seemed to have picked up on that because he changed the topic.
"What about your parents?"
Hermione hesitated.
"They loved me, but I had to send them away to protect them," Hermione answered, trying to be as honest as possible without giving anything away.
"That's not what you told the elder, though," Alaric prodded, wanting to know a little bit more. He was curious.
Hermione sighed and crossed her arms, "There are a lot of things about myself that I can't tell you, Alaric. Not because I don't want to, but because the consequences of the information could be disastrous."
Alaric made a puzzled face, "Are you a seer?"
"Something like that," Hermione said, letting him make his own assumptions even if they were wrong, "the point is... my parents were in danger, so I made them believe that they didn't have a daughter and sent them away. So it really is as if they were dead."
Alaric waited a moment before replying, "What you did was very brave. Not all of us could be so selfless."
"Perhaps it was selfish," Hermione countered, "I didn't want to suffer if they died."
"I don't believe that," Alaric said.
There was an awkward pause again and Hermione couldn't help but feeling that this was a mistake.
"I will protect your secret," Alaric then said, startling Hermione out of her thoughts.
"Pardon?"
"I won't tell anyone that you are a Seer. They tend to be highly coveted by kings or sorcerers in their search for power. Even if you do not marry me, I will not tell a soul."
"How long do people tend to court before deciding to get married?" Hermione asked then, the thought of marriage making her heart race and not in a good way.
"It depends on the couple, but it usually doesn't take over a year," Alaric explained, oblivious to the way Hermione's shoulder's stiffened in sheer panic, "it is generally regarded that if after a year of courtship you couldn't reach an agreement, then perhaps you should look elsewhere."
They continued walking for a while. The conversation was stilted and more often than not there were very awkward pauses that neither seemed to know how to breach. Gone was the carefree guy who told jokes at the bonfire, and he was replaced by a nervous man who was trying too hard to make the right impression.
They returned to the camp for lunch, and Hermione made a hasty excuse to sit next to Mordred.
"How was your training?" she asked him, keenly aware of Alaric's eyes on him, "Do you still need help with the meditations? I have some time before supper to help you."
Mordred raised an eyebrow at her, the cheeky boy, and Hermione could see him trying to supress a grin.
"Thank you," Mordred said and returned to his food, filling the silence recounting with too many details everything he had to do during that day's training. Hermione supposed she walked right into that one. When they finished their food and Hermione went to her apprenticeship with Agrona, she immediately caught on to Hermione's mood.
"Does your mood have something to do with Alaric?" she asked with a smile that seemed too innocent to Hermione.
"Does everybody know now?" Hermione replied, exasperated.
"Nothing ever interesting happens around here, people have to have some entertainment," Agrona joked, but Hermione wasn't in the mood to appreciate it.
"Well, I'm glad I could be of help."
The healer joked, "Ah, the perks of being young."
Hermione rolled her eyes, preparing the ingredients for the salve they were going to make today.
"Everything is alive with emotion," Agrona continued, "when you get old like me things just don't feel as they used to."
They started to work in silence on the salve, only speaking when they needed, and everything seemed to be going well, until Hermione caught her salve turning a brown, horrid color with a smell to match. Immediately, she put the whole thing in stasis and out of the fire while she retraced her steps.
"You added the crushed lavender too early, Hermione, when the salve was still too hot," the healer told her, saving Hermione the time, but also causing her to grind her teeth in frustration. Agrona took Hermione's hands and led her to the log they used as bench, "why don't you tell me what is bothering you?"
"I don't think I should have accepted Alaric's courtship," Hermione confessed, her feelings rising to the surface and exploding like a geiser.
"Why?" Agrona asked, a bit alarmed. It wasn't very common that a prospective bride second guessed herself that soon after a courtship started.
"I don't know if I want to get married yet, and Alaric said that couples are expected to marry within a year," Hermione rambled, as she tended to do when she was nervous, "I'm just getting used to living here and I don't want to add any more changes on top of that. There's also Mordred, who I worry about and I feel he should be my priority..."
"Hermione, sweetheart, calm down," Agrona said, giving her a steaming cup of tea that Agrona always had on hand. Hermione took a sip and immediately felt herself relax, "if you don't think you are ready for a courtship, you can call it off."
"But I don't want to hurt Alaric," Hemione said, "he's a good friend."
"I think it would hurt him more if you let him proceed courting you, only to reject him when he's become more involved," Argona said, "what brought this on?"
"Do you really want to hear?" Hermione asked.
"As I said, we need some form of entertainment," Agrona replied.
"But you must not go with this to no anybody," Hermione warned, "not even if I call it off. It wouldn't be fair to Alaric."
"My lips are sealed," Agrona promised, and so Hermione told the healer everything about her disastrous date. Agrona laughed a few times and reminisced about the mishaps of her own courtship period.
"But you married him in the end, did you not?" Hermione asked.
"I didn't marry him until the third time he courted me," Agrona answered, her eyes far away, "I told him I didn't want to have anything to do with him after last time, but he said he could and would make it up to me. He did, and we got married."
"I guess I'll tell him tonight, then," Hermione said with a sigh.
"Don't be so upset dear, it happens," Agrona comforted, "besides, he could decide to try again in the future and you might find yourself in a better place. Don't lose hope."
Hermione then started over with the salve and, when she was done, Agrona dismissed her. She found Mordred and they went into her tent, which was blessedly empty.
"Do you need me to put a toad in his trousers?" Mordred asked without missing a beat.
"No, nothing like that," Hermione said, "it was just painfully awkward and I didn't want to have a repeat of that before supper."
Mordred looked so disappointed that he couldn't put a toad in Alaric's trousers that Hermione laughed out loud.
"How are your meditations going for real?" Hermione asked.
"Boring," Mordred whine, "I always feel like I'm going to fall asleep."
"Well, if you want to start casting spells, you better start mastering them."
"But why?" Mordred asked, "You don't need to."
"Because I already know control," Hermione explained, "magic needs two things. Number one, intention. Number two, control. If you have the right intention but not enough control, you could either overpower the spell and hurt someone or don't power the spell enough. If you have control but not the right intention, then you might not get the results you expect."
"Like what?"
"Well, I knew someone who tried to levitate a feather. I'm not sure what he was lacking, control or intention, but his feather exploded."
"Really?" Mordred asked wide eyed.
Hermione nodded, and then she proceeded to guide Mordred through the meditations. Mordred wasn't quite there yet, but at least now he was trying harder. She was sure he would master it in no time.
At dinner time, predictably, Alaric sat down next to her and even brought her dinner. She tried to smile at him, trying to calm her beating heart. She really did enjoy his company, and he was a good man, but she just couldn't bring herself to look at him that way. Perhaps, if she had been born a druid, she wouldn't have hesitated.
"How was your day?" she asked in what she hoped was a casual tone.
"Tiring," Alaric replied, "we were out in the woods all day."
"Why?"
"We got a message saying Uther's son was attacked by the Questing Beast," Alaric explained, "we were fortifying the wards and the enchantments that keep us hidden."
"Is that necessary? We're not even in Camelot," Hermione retorted.
"Uther's hatred of magic extends far and wide. The bite of a Questing Beast is lethal, and now that he was bitten, he will die. If his wife's death brought about the Great Purge, who knows what he will do when his son dies."
At that moment, the Elder stepped forward and told everyone what Alaric had just told her. There were multiple gasps and general unrest. They were clearly afraid of the king's grief, and Hermione couldn't blame them. However, her own personal unrest could be resolved more easily and, in the confusion, she stood up and motioned for Alaric to follow her to a more private place.
"Alaric, you are a great man and I really value your friendship," Hermione said, and she saw Alaric's shoulders sag in relief. She continued, feeling encouraged by this, "however, at this moment in time I don't think I'm ready for any form of courtship, from you or anyone, and it wouldn't be fair to lead you on."
"I understand," he said, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think we are meant for each other."
Hermione couldn't help but laugh, "I agree with you. But, if you're ever interested, Aida is looking for someone to settle down with."
Alaric raised an eyebrow, "You wouldn't mind?"
"Why would I? I think you are a wonderful man and she is a very sweet and caring woman," Hermione answered.
Alaric shrugged and they said their goodbyes, feeling considerably lighter than earlier, even if the overall mood at the camp was one of dread and fear. Hermione went to sit next to Mordred, who seemed a bit lost in the midst of the families who had huddled together to pray for any form of salvation. He latched onto her waist and buried his face in her chest, the atmosphere clearly getting to her. Aida and Adeline then came to sit next to them, clearly distraught. Aida sat very close to Hermione and Adeline brought a log to sit in front of them. She didn't say anything, but grabbed Hermione's hands, which were wrapped around Mordred, and Aida placed an arm around her mother's shoulders.
At that moment, Hermione realized that she had found herself a family in medieval Camelot.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please, you like it, leave a favorite, a follow (or both) and a review.
Have a nice day!
ClearEyes.