Trigger Warnings: physical violence, sexual assault, attempted rape, panic attack. Greyback is a sleazy pile of human garbage, and this chapter heavily features him in all his sleaziness and disgusting behavior.

Author Note: I also want to add that the character is a villain who will eventually be defeated. I don't want to give the impression that I condone such behavior, because I honestly find it despicable. I have more or less a plan on how he will be defeated, but I am also open to suggestions on how Greyback deserves to be punished, so if you have any ideas you can share them in the comments.

As the evening fell around them, Arthur started to feel the physical, mental and emotional exhaustion on his body, on his mind and on his mood. The conversation with Hermione (an owl, really?), Gaius's insistence that Arthur should not know something, and his father's selective bias against magic echoed in his head, sending ripples of doubts on all his memories and experiences. Did that tutor who said all sorcerers were devil worshipers say that because the king told him to, or because he believed it was such? Did he ever bring proof of the devil worship of these people? And that time that he fell off his horse as a child, did the look Gaius exchange with his father signify concern for a possible injury or was there a deeper, secret meaning? Arthur was confused, so very confused.

Uther didn't seem to notice or he didn't care. He grew increasingly more impatient and irritable as the sun set and the moon rose, while Morgana was still missing. The king sent Arthur out on another search party with Sir Leon, Sir Bedivere and Sir Kay because the search party he sent during the day didn't find anything. Arthur doubted that they would find Morgana, because if the trail was lukewarm the night before, by now it was long gone. Never mind the animals that trampled all over the forest and erased any traces of her presence in the woods. It worried him. Yet, at least he was doing something, as much as an exercise in futility as it seemed to be. He couldn't just give up Morgana for dead. Even if he never told her, not that she ever told him either, he loved her. She was the closest thing he had to a sibling, and his worry for her ate at him.

So Arthur led the search party once again out into the woods. As Arthur looked at what was visible of the sky through the foliage, he noticed that the moon wasn't quite full yet, so its light was still dimmer than he would have liked. They lit up their torches and they moved forward in the darkness.

"Hang in there, Morgana," Arthur murmured to himself, willing the lady to stay alive until he could find her.

Morgana's head pounded and her body ached, particularly her arms and her legs because they were tied so tight. She was sure her hand didn't have any circulation at that point, and her feet weren't much better. After lugging her around like a sack of potatoes, her kidnapper dumped her in a cave where other women and children huddled together against the far wall, all tied up like her and trembling in fright. She felt horrified.

The man then leaned close to her and sniffed her, sighing in pleasure. Morgana felt utterly disgusted. Then, the man licked his lips and proceeded to swipe his eyes up and down, stopping a considerable time on her cleavage.

He then said with a predatory smirk, "You smell so good. I bet you'll taste even better."

Morgana recoiled, but there was little place to move and the rock of the wall pressed uncomfortably against her side. Tears sprung to her eyes unbidden, and without her permission slid down her cheeks. She didn't want to admit it even to herself, but she was afraid. By now she knew that Arthur must be looking for her, but the chances that he would find her were very slim. In fact, in all likelihood, this cave would be the last place she would ever see.

The man, if he could be called that, then sauntered out of the cave. As soon as he left, the women around her wailed and the children cried for their parents. Morgana swallowed her tears, and turned towards the women.

"How long have you been here?" Morgana asked them.

A woman with dirt all over her and twigs in her hair said, "It's hard to tell, but I think it's been two weeks... I was the first one."

Morgana nodded towards the children, "Are they yours?"

The women shook their heads.

"What does he want with us?" Morgana asked.

The women whimpered, and now a dark skinned woman who reminded Morgana of Gwen answered, "We don't know... he keeps talking about the full moon, so maybe he's a sorcerer?"

Some children cried louder, while some women shrieked. The woman who spoke first replied, "Is he going to kill us?"

"But then why has he waited this long?" another woman, plum, short, stiff, asked.

"I heard that sorcerers do rituals with the blood of virgins," the dark skinned woman answered.

"Well, I have three children at home, but I'm still here," the plump woman replied.

"I just had a baby," another one sobbed.

One by one, the women started sharing the stories of their husbands and their children, who were left alone at home and probably worried about their whereabouts. Only Morgana didn't say anything because she was unmarried. Maybe that's the reason that man took her. The thought made her tremble in fear.

Their conversation hushed when the man returned with a deer carcass. He dropped it in the center of the cave and dragged the women and children to sit in a circle around it. Morgana looked around; a few women seemed confused, but most of them eyed it with disgust and resignation. Morgana shivered. The man pulled out a knife, and her heart lodged in her throat. Was he going to kill her now?

Much to her confusion, the man started slashing at the carcass. The man skinned it and sliced the raw meat into thin stripes which he then fed the women. To the few who refused, the man forcibly opened their mouths and made them eat it. He untied two women and ordered them to feed the raw meat to the children, who naturally protested the whole way despite the women's soft spoken reassurances.

When the man finally reached her with a bloody piece of meat in his hand, Morgana clamped her mouth shut. She was certain that if she opened her mouth, she would throw up. As it was, she may never eat meat again after this night.

"You better get used to raw meat. Soon, that will be the only thing you'll eat," he said with a sneer, and forced Morgana's mouth open.

Morgana spit it right back out.

For a second the women only stared at her with wide eyes before they averted their gazes. The man himself seemed surprised, but anger soon replaced his shock and he backhanded her so hard she flew back against the wall and hit the back of her head. Morgana saw stars.

The man then forced her mouth open again and covered her mouth so Morgana had no choice but to chew and swallow, or she would choke to death. As soon as it was down, Morgana gagged and nearly threw up. Maybe she should have choked to death.

"That's a good bitch," the man said.

Tears of shame and anger slid down Morgana's cheeks. How dare this man treat her like this? Who did he think he was? If she ever got out of this, she would demand Uther to get this man's head on a pike. She would request torture of the highest desgree before his execution. She would watch as they heated rusted nails and used them to carve this man's skin, and she would enjoy it.

Her chest started to feel hot. At first, Morgana thought that she would throw up after all, but the sensation felt different. It didn't originate from her stomach, but rather from her chest, right next to her heart. And the heat didn't fade. The more she thought about the damage she wanted to inflict on this horrible man, the hotter it became, until at last it happened.

The heat increased to the point it became unbearable, and Morgana screamed. With her scream, the pressure in her chest burst forward in a wave of light and heat. It burned through the ropes holding her captive, and through the ropes of the women and children around her. She couldn't see it, but her eyes were glowing a deep, molten gold. This wave of power collided with the man, who was unprepared for it, and blasted him out of the cave and out of sight. Morgana hoped he was dead.

As soon as they were free, the women all grabbed one or two children and ran as if the devil was after them, an assessment which wasn't that far off. In a split second, the cave was empty except for Morgana and the dark skinned woman from before.

"We won't tell anyone," the woman told her and ran out of the cave as well.

Morgana felt light headed, even if the pressure in her chest had eased. She felt like that time she'd had a fever, but she still stood up and ran out of the cave as well. She tripped over rocks and branches but she never looked back; she had to find a way to get to Camelot. Or at least, to a village, any village, that would be willing to offer her asylum. She didn't notice the pair of eyes stalking her in the darkness.

Hermione and Mordred didn't return to the Isle of the Blessed, but rather to their Druid camp. The Elder smiled at them, Aida hugged them and Adelilne fussed. Mordred endured it all with the scowl of an child who's too old to admit he likes the attention, and Hermione felt grateful to have some people around her who supported them both. Mordred was then swamped by his friends, who wanted to hear all about his adventures, and Hermione made her way to where Agrona was sitting in her workbench.

"I never thanked you for helping me yesterday," Hermione said.

Agrona shrugged, "Being a mother isn't easy, even when you birth the child. Having such a grown kid on your lap must not be easy, so I'm happy to help."

Hermione sighed, "I'm not his mother."

"Maybe not, but he regards you like one."

Hermione huffed, "If anything, he probably looks at me like a sister."

"Don't underestimate his feelings for you, Hermione," Agrona warned, "for that is what led to your argument."

Hermione sighed again, knowing that Agrona was right but having nothing to add. Then, with a chill running down her spine, she remembered her findings at the Isle of the Blessed. She opened her rucksack and pulled out a thick, dusty tome.

Agrona gasped, "Is that what I think it is?"

"It's the High Priestesses' Grimmoire," Hermione said in a breathless, awed whisper, "I could only skim through it, but it goes back hundreds of years."

"I heard stories about it, but I never saw it," Agrona replied, her eyes bright with what Hermione suspected to be tears, and reverently touched the cover.

Hermione eyed Agrona with narrowed eyes, "I also found memories."

"Memories?" Agrona asked, and her eyes widened. She paled.

"In a pensive," Hermione added, and Agrona gasped. Hermione continued, "you knew about it."

"I don't know what you mean," Agrona replied, but her voice was shaking.

"You were there, weren't you? The night when the knights attacked," Hermione said, and Agrona gave a deep sigh.

"I was just starting my training to become a priestess, so I wasn't in the hall with all the others. I was on cleaning duty down in the cellar. The High Priestess ordered all the books and artifacts down there one day without explanation," Agrona said in a small voice, "I just heard the screams. I tried to get out of the cellar but it had been magically sealed."

Hermione frowned, "How did you get out?"

"It took me hours to remember the spell to open the latch," Agrona answered, and she seemed ashamed.

"It wasn't your fault," Hermione said softly.

"I could have helped..."

"You would have been killed."

Agrona didn't seem convinced, and yet she didn't argue, "The first thing that hit me was the smell. I can't, to this day, eat anything that's been roasted, because it reminds me of that day. Then I saw the bodies... all my sisters... There were some from the knights, those foolish enough to try and enter the sacred grounds. In the end, they intended to burn us alive inside our home."

After a few moments of silence, Hermione said, "I'm sorry."

And she was. She truly felt for the woman who witnessed such a horrible tragedy. She tried to remember any time she'd seen such devastation, but nothing came to mind; it did remind her, however, that she left Ron and Harry alone to hunt horcruxes and that the resulting battle between Harry and Voldemort would probably leave just as many casualties by the end. A tremor ran her body and guilt like any other overwhelmed her senses. What were they going to do? How were they going to finish hunting horcruxes? Did they retrieve her beaded bag? Did she have it when she returned to the past? If so, where was it now? It had too much information to have fallen into the wrong hands.

"Hermione!" Agora's loud yell ripped her out of her thoughts, "what's wrong child?"

"I left them," Hermione wailed, "and they need to fight a madman. Who's helping them? What if they think I died? What if...?"

"Who, child, who?"

Hermione's heart clenched and her throat closed up, "My friends, from before. From where I come from..."

Agrona was then quiet for a moment, "I'm sorry. Is there anything we can do?"

"Unless you know how to send a message into the future, no, we can't," Hermione said before she thought, and when she thought her hands flew to her mouth.

"It's not as surprising to me as you think, child," Agrona chided lightheartedly, "I learned of the prophecies from the High Priestess herself, and when Mordred's prophecy changed, I was one of the first to know."

Hermione sighed, relieved, "I wish there was something I could do."

"Help us here, and perhaps, the ripples will have a positive effect on the future," Agrona said.

"Or the opposite," Hermione groaned.

"It can't be helped," Agrona replied, "we can't save everyone."

Hermione sighed. She thought about this woman who had witnessed the Great Purge first hand, and then to her friends so many years in the future, and realized that she couldn't do everything. She could barely shoulder the responsibility of a child's life in her hands.

"It wasn't your fault," Agrona told her, echoing Hermione's own words.

Hermione knew it was the truth. She said, "What did you do after you left?"

"I wandered, for the most part, until I stumbled upon this Druid camp, much like you did," Agrona answered, "I met my husband and we had a child. We were happy for a year or so, and I thought we were safe. But then the Purge finally reached the Druids, when the magical authorities who could have protected us were gone," Agrona continued, "my husband died in one of their raids. My child... He was... I didn't even know he was gone, he was right there next to me but then... the next thing I heard was him screaming my name before the knight threw him in the well..."

Silent tears ran down Agrona's cheeks and Hermione's heart clenched in sympathy. She grasped the old woman's hand in hers, and they grieved in silence for the lives that had been lost. By then, it was dusk and they were called to the bonfire for supper. Hermione put the book back in her rucksack, and she and Agrona sat together, and soon Mordred joined them.

Hermione hugged him tight to her, needing the comfort of his presence after so much talk of death. Mordred seemed concerned, but he didn't ask anything, instead hugging her back. They ate in silence and then the Druids started on one of their songs. Despite their heavy talk in the afternoon, both Agrona and Hermione joined heartily, wanting to revel in the joy of life around them rather than to linger on past deaths. Mordred joined too, with Kara, and they all had a merry time.

It was towards the end of the night, as the fire turned to embers, that a shrill scream full of terror tore through their otherwise peaceful night.

"Go to the tent," Hermione told Mordred, and when he tried to protest, she pushed him lightly, "now."

The women and children scurried to their respective tents while the men grabbed logs of wood to make torches. Hermione was with them, and when they tried to convince her to turn away, she simply reminded them she was now the High Priestess. They dropped it.

Iseldir, the de-facto leader of the group, told them to fan out. Alaric stood close by her, hovering.

"I can take care of myself, you know," Hermione said, not unkindly but firm.

"I know, but you don't have to," he replied, without missing a beat.

"Alaric-"

"Drop it."

Hermione did, albeit reluctantly. They arrived at a clearing when they heard leaves rustling and a strangled scream. Hermione pushed forward, bargin through the leaves, and what she saw made her blood freeze in her veins.

The Lady Morgana was lying on the ground, pinned down by a man much bigger and heavier than her. His meaty hands were closed around the lady's throat, and Hermione's own throat echoed the pain because Hermione knew those hands. She remembered what it was like to have them wrapped around her throat. She remembered her heart pounding in her ears and her chest aching for oxygen that wouldn't come.

Her palms grew sweaty and her vision swam. She felt someone grab her elbow and she jumped back in fear, rising her eyes and meeting the worried gaze of Alaric holding her own.

"Is he the man who hurt you?" Alaric asked her, in a whisper.

Hermione's panic increased, "How do you know?"

Alaric only stared at her steadily, "Perhaps you should go back."

Hermione wanted to go back to camp, back to the safety of the Druid's wards and back to Mordred. She was going to turn back. But then Morgana made a pitiful sound when trying to draw in air and Hermione knew she could not leave her to die at Greyback's hands.

Hermione fisted her hands and swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise, and before she could second guess herself, she stormed into the clearing where they were much to the chagrin of Alaric and her Druid companions. Hermione didn't let panic override her brain; instead, she used her anger towards Greyback, Bellatrix and the Death Eaters consume her until her magical core burned.

"Greyback!" she yelled, extending her hands in front of her and letting her magic flow. He turned his snarling face towards her, and she felt her hands start to shake, but she could not show weakness now of all times, "Astrice!"

Greyback yelped like a dog when her hot, angry magic blasted him across the clearing and pinned him against a tree. He snarled at her, baring his teeth.

"If it isn't Potter's mudblood," he said, with a disgusting leer in his eyes, "we never got to finish what we started, did we?"

Hermione shivered, and her magic faltered with her fear, but she forced her magic to remain where it was even when she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead and sliding down her neck.

"Take the Lady Morgana and go back to camp. Tell the Elder to erect the strongest wards, both against magical and physical attacks," Hermione ordered Alaric without looking away from Greyback.

"Hermione..."

"We can't leave you here."

Both Alaric and Iseldir spoke at the same time, but Hermione shook her head.

"I'll be right behind you," she said.

Alaric hesitated.

"Go!" Hermione screamed.

Alaric flinched. Hermione never raised her voice, not even when having to discipline Mordred or one of the kids at camp. They must have sensed her fear, and something else, because Alaric moved fast into the clearing and scooped the Lady Morgana in his arms while Iseldir led the rest of the Druids back to the camp.

"No one leaves the camp tonight," Hermione said to his retreating back, and he nodded before disappearing through the trees.

Watching his prey walking away angered Greyback, who was as proud as he was a brute. He fought her magic with the viciousness of a caged beast and succeeded at breaking through by sheer force of will. The magical backlash threw Hermione a couple of steps back and spots dance in front of her eyes, but the thought of Greyback going after her family pushed her to once more throw her magic forward with the intent to protect them.

"Bebeorgan," she said between pants as she tried to catch her breath and a shimmering shield materialized in the path that Alaric had taken and Greyback ran straight into it. The sight would have been comical, except that it only served to turn Greyback's frustration and anger against her. He turned and walked slowly in her direction; Hermione gulped, hearing her heart beat in her ears.

"You always have to stick your nose where it doesn't belong, don't you?" he snarled, flexing his claws in a show of intimidation. It was working. Hermione remembered the pain of those claws raking through her skin. Her breathing became shallow.

Not now, she prayed, please, not now.

"It's time to finish what we started," he said when he was close enough that Hermione could smell his disgusting stench. She couldn't move. In that moment, she was back at Malfoy Manor and Greyback was pouncing on her. She screamed. He backhanded her and she sprawled on the floor, and before she could get her bearings he was right there on top of her, holding her wrists with his own.

"I will make you scream, alright," he whispered in her ear and she nearly gagged. She was shaking, and the panic that gripped her heart didn't seem to be going away. She turned her head around searching for anything she could use as a weapon, despairing further when she couldn't find anything. Her mind seemed to have been overtaken by a thick fog and she couldn't think.

Just then she heard a thunk, and Greyback growled.

"Leave her alone!" someone yelled, and Hermione's eyes widened in further panic. Her head swiveled to the source of the voice, and she found Mordred's equally frightened gaze even if he was putting up a brave face.

"Go back to camp, now!" she yelled at him, causing Greyback to backhand her again.

"Quiet, you filthy mudblood," Greyback sneered and stalked towards Mordred, who took a step back. Something tripped him, however, and he fell on his back. He scrambled backwards, but Greyback caught him soon enough.

Hermione saw Greyback grab Mordred's shirt and use it to lift the kid off of the ground, baring his teeth at him. Mordred scratched at the hand and kicked at the air but Greyback was unmoved. Hermione realized that if she didn't do something, Mordred was going to get hurt. She knew what Greyback did to little boys. She didn't have time for a panic attack. She stood up despite feeling weak and suspecting she might be overworking her magical core, and she pushed her magic forward once more.

"Wáce ierlic!" she said, and Greyback fell backwards, stunned. Hermione moved to where Mordred fell, shaking like a leaf and pale. She inspected his arms, his neck, his head.

"What are you doing here?" she said, trying not to startle Mordred further by yelling.

"You didn't come back with the others," he said though his voice was shaking, "you promised you wouldn't leave me."

"Now's not the time, Morded, you aren't safe here," Hermione pleaded.

"Neither are you," Mordred retorted.

"Mordred-"

"Look out!"

His warning was followed by a scream and Hermione felt herself being pushed into a tree. A knot in the tree pushed painfully against her back but the pain kept the panic at bay. She had to keep her head on straight, or Greyback would get Mordred.

"I'll kill you, mudblood," Greyback snarled, "and then I'll take the boy and turn him, much like I turned little Lupin and so many other kids like him. I'll break him. He'll scream your name and you won't be there to..."

Hermione summoned a branch from a tree in front of her, and in its path to her, it whacked him in the head. He reeled back a few steps, enough for Hermione to put her hands on his chest and say, "Astrice."

He flew back across the clearing, and Hermione pictured in her mind the High Priestess Nimue with her fireballs. She opened her palm and willed one to appear, and to do so quickly for Greyback was back on his feet and lunging towards her. She threw it at him before he got too close, and he yowled in pain. She looked down at the branch and grabbed it in her hand. She willed it to become a pointy sword, similar to how she turned the matchstick into a needle in her first year of Hogwarts.

It didn't work the way she'd hoped. Hermione only succeeded in turning the tip of the branch pointy. Hermione's head swam, probably because she was close to depleting her magical core, but the worst thing she could do right now would be to lose consciousness. She lost track of Mordred, but she hoped he had gone back to camp when he realized the nature of the danger. As Greyback came back at her despite the burn on his right shoulder, Hermione stabbed the pointy end of her branch into that same injured shoulder. Greyback responded with his claws, raking them against her arm. Tears sprung to her eyes but she refused to scream. She gave him a good old kick in the groin and ran away from him.

"You'll pay for that, bitch," he said between pants of pain. Hermione wanted this to end. He came at her and she erected the shield again, and winced every time he hit it. She could feel her magical reserves were near empty and she didn't know how long she would be able to keep this up. Finally, after one mighty blow, Greyback broke through her shield and pinned her to the ground again. Hermione felt tired. Her head swam, and she saw multiple Greybacks hovering over her. Black spots danced in front of her eyes.

I'm going to die, she thought.

"Not so brave now, are you?" Greyback taunted, leering at her. Hermione kicked at legs, and tried to hit his face, but he adjusted his hold on her so that she couldn't move, "I do love them feisty."

Hermione spat in his eye, or at least where she thought his eye was. Greyback, most likely in anger, roared and pulled his arm back. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the blow that never came. She opened her eyes and saw a pair of eyes glowing golden, and soon Greyback had been blasted off of her and against yet another tree. Mordred then helped her up and led her away towards the camp in hasty retreat. She was leaning heavily on Mordred and felt like she was very close to passing out. They weren't walking fast enough, and she could feel Mordred's strain. When they reached the edge of the clearing, she saw that they weren't alone.

Merlin and Prince Arthur approached them cautiously and Hermione wondered how much they had witnessed. She saw three knights behind them, eyeing Hermione and Mordred wearily. She tried to straighten her back, but found she didn't have the strength.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked between pants, shielding Mordred with her body, even if she was shaking like a leaf from exertion and sheer panic.

"We heard a scuffle," Prince Arthur replied. Just then, from the direction they had come from, they heard a roar.

"Who is that?" Prince Arthur asked.

"That is the man who attacked me, your highness," Hermione answered.

"Yes, I know... oh, that man..."

"The were-wolf," Merlin said, skeptically.

"Do you want to go meet him so that you'll believe me?" Hermione snapped at him, "be my guest! We are leaving!"

"Too late," Greyback snarled, coming through the leaves, like a tiger stalking his prey.

The prince and his knights immediately drew their swords. Hermione felt her knees weaken, and suddenly the only thing keeping her upright was Mordred's hold on her. Merlin grabbed her other arm and draped it across his shoulders, guiding her towards the back of the group while the men with armor and swords fought with Greyback. Hermione's knees finally collapsed and she threw up on the bushes next to her while Merlin looked at and treated the gashes in her arm. Mordred held her hand the whole time.

Some time later, the knights and the prince came back. They seemed frustrated.

"He got away," Prince Arthur grumbled, "again."

"He's not stupid, your highness," Hermione replied, "he knows when he's outnumbered."

Prince Arthur responded by punching a tree, "And we still don't know where Morgana is."

Hermione was going to answer, but Mordred beat her to it, "She is safe."

Arthur swiveled to look at him and his eyes widened in recognition, "Mordred?"

Mordred shrank in on himself, but nodded. He didn't like to have all the attention on him.

"She is safe, back in our camp," Mordred repeated.

"How do we know you didn't kidnap her in the first place?" one of the knights spat, pointing his sword at them.

"At ease," Arthur ordered, and the knight complied even when he made it clear he didn't want to, "explain."

Hermione brought Mordred closer to her and hugged him, trying to protect him from their suspicious glares. Then, she said, "We found her being attacked by that man. If you can refrain from killing my people, I can take you to her."

The same knight from before spoke up, "Sire, you can't possibly..."

"Stand down, Sir Kay," Prince Arthur bellowed, and the knight recoiled, "you three will stand guard by the horses. Merlin, you're coming with me."

"No swords," Hermione asked then, and at the look they gave her, she continued, "we don't have any weapons. I won't put my people at risk by bringing an armed, trained soldier into out camp. If you don't agree to this arrangement, I will go and bring her to you, but it will take time. I don't know if she's recovered from her ordeal yet."

Prince Arthur shared a look with Merlin that spoke of the connection that would become legendary and, after an almost imperceptible nod, the prince acquiesced and handed it to one of his knights.

"Sire..." one of them started to say.

"Set up the camp, find firewood and water. We might need to stay here until morning. You have until then to rest. Make sure to water the horses," Prince Arthur ordered them, and the knights busied themselves with doing just that.

Hermione then stood up on shaky legs and leaned heavily on Mordred as she walked back to camp.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her, his eyes wide and afraid.

"It's nothing Agrona can't heal," Hermione replied.

"Who was that man? What did he want with you?" he asked.

Hermione shuddered, "Despicable things, Mordred. If you want to know what evil looks like, that man is what evil looks like. He relishes on hurting others... Why didn't you stay with the others?"

"I was afraid you'd get hurt," Mordred answered with a pout.

"I know, Mordred. I was afraid too," she paused. She wanted to reprimand him, but she needed him to understand why what he did was so stupid. Reprimands never worked with Harry, Ron or her; they still did what they thought they had to do, even if it involved the philosopher's stone, or a basilisk, or an escaped convict, or Voldemort himself. Hermione needed Mordred to be less reckless than she'd been.

So, she asked instead, "Do you think it helped that you were afraid in the middle of the danger?"

Mordred pouted more, "I saved you. Twice."

"By drawing his attention to you," Hermione admonished, "Mordred, what do you think would have happened to you if I had been truly incapacitated?"

Mordred was quiet for a long time. He didn't say anything, but she felt a shiver go through him. Hermione continued.

"I am thankful for your help, but I don't want you to do it again. By drawing his attention to you, you put yourself in danger and I..."

Hermione choked up, and the tears that had been building up since she saw Greyback on top of the Lady Morgana finally spilled. The men walking with them exchanged an uncomfortable look, but Mordred just looked worried.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I won't do it again. I promise," he said.

"It's just..." Hermione tried to speak through her tears, but she found she could barely draw breath, "I thought... he was going to… and you... I can't..."

She stopped to lean against a tree. She couldn't breathe and her chest hurt. Did Greyback injure her there? She was shaking and she felt weak. Her vision swam and black spots appeared in front of her. She swayed and slid down the tree and struggled to breathe.

"Mordred, do you know how to get to the camp?" Prince Arthur asked then. Mordred nodded, but at this point Hermione was barely aware of her surroundings and their conversation. In her mind, she kept replying her two encounters with Fenrir Greyback. One, back at Malfoy Manor a thousand years into the future. The other only a few moments ago. She recalled his disgusting stench, and the feel of his hands on her neck, on her wrists, the feel of his breath next to her ear as he promised to turn Mordred into a monster just like him. Her arm ached from where Greyback sank his claws on her arm, and then phantom hands wrapped around her neck.

Suddenly, she was scooped up in somebody's arms and she shrieked in blind panic.

"Put her down, right here," another voice said, but Hermione couldn't recognize who it was or where it came from. Then, two warm hands covered her own shaking, clammy hands, "breathe with me, Hermione."

Hermione then felt her hands pressing against something that was rising and falling, and she tried to imitate the pattern.

Rising, inhale, falling, exhale.

Inhale, and exhale.

Breathe.

At last, her vision cleared and she could breath by herself. She found herself staring into the kind, warm eyes of Agrona, who looked worried but also relieved. A sob escaped, unbidden, from her throat and she jumped forward into Agrona's arms, where she cried until she passed out not long after.

Merlin watched Mordred disappear through the tears and he turned to Arthur, who was watching Hermione carefully but keeping his distance. Hermione was making scary wheezing sounds and aborted sobs, even if she didn't seem to be aware she was crying. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, she was shaking like a leaf in a storm and she had gone awfully pale.

"What is wrong with her?" Merlin asked, concerned.

"The battle caught up to her," Arthur replied simply, "it happens a lot to our younger knights the first time they go to the battlefield. It's like... you push all your emotions away so that you can fight, and when the fight is over, they all come back at once. It's... overwhelming..."

"Do you think she's telling the truth?" Merlin asked.

"I think she's one of the few people who is telling the truth," Arthur admitted, and Merlin tried not to flinch, "my father hasn't been honest with me, and... I overheard Hermione arguing against Gaius on my behalf. Gaius didn't want her to tell me something."

Merlin didn't know what to say to that, but he could feel the guilt gnawing at his gut. Despite knowing that Arthur was destined to become the Once and Future King, and that he would bring magic back to the land, Merlin was still skeptical. Even though he had seen Arthur's believes be challenged by Hermione and Gaius, and despite the flicker of hope that it ignited in his chest, Merlin was still very much afraid. What if Arthur hated him for this secret? What if he sent him to the pyre? What if this secret was the one which tipped the bucket? He didn't want to lose his friendship with Arthur, or his life.

Just then, the foliage broke and Mordred returned with a Druid man who didn't hesitate before he scooped up Hermione, who started shrieking and flailing, but the man didn't let her fall. Merlin couldn't help but wonder who he was. Mordred seemed to trust him as well. The man walked briskly away, leading them to the Druid camp with barely a nod, and within a few moments they were entering the campsite with tents, a bonfire and some overturned logs which he supposed worked as benches. He looked around, and apprehensively noted that there were children and adults who were openly doing magic. They stopped as soon as they walked in and stared at Prince Arthur in fear.

Merlin saw Arthur reached for the sword he didn't have on instinct, and for once felt grateful for that way in which Hermione seemed to know everything. She probably saved the lives of these Druids by asking Arthur to leave his sword. The Druids around them quickly scurried away. An elderly man with a face that seemed to have been carved out of wood approached them with a serene expression on his face, while the man carrying Hermione disappeared behind the flap of a tent.

"Mordred told me you were coming to retrieve the Lady Morgana," the elderly man in front of them said, and Merlin focused on him instead.

"We are," Arthur replied.

The man nodded, "Follow me."

Arthur and Merlin followed him to a tent just like all the others, and when they walked in they saw a very pale Morgana drinking water from a pale. The woman next to her startled, causing Morgana to jump. Arthur didn't seem to notice, as his face broke into a big smile.

"Morgana," he said, kneeling next to her.

"Arthur," Morgana sobbed, pretty much in the exact same way Hermione had just mere moments ago. She lunged for Arthur, who held the lady close to his chest, as relieved as she felt.

"By the heavens, Morgana, we were so worried," Arthur said, pulling back to see her face. He noticed the bruises to her face, to her arms, and most prominently to her neck. He growled, and looked around, "who did this to you?"

"No, Arthur, these people saved my life," Morgana pleaded with wide eyes full of tears, "please, listen to me. The man who took me is like a beast. He tied my hands, and my feet, and he had other women and children there. He..."

"Calm down, breathe," Arthur said, feeling like a weight was lifted off her chest as these few bits of Morgana's story matched Hermione's.

"Where's Hermione?" Morgana asked suddenly, as if reading his mind.

"She's being treated, at the moment," Arthur replied after a brief hesitation.

Morgana brought a hand to her lips, "Oh, no. I have to see her... Take me to her..."

"I don't think it's the best idea, Morgana."

"She got injured saving my life!" Morgana exclaimed and her voice cracked, "Now, either you help me get to her or I'll do it by myself."

Arthur sighed and Merlin knew he was going to cave in. Soon they were making the short trek from Morgana's borrowed tent towards Hermione's tent. Arthur didn't want to just barge in, in case that Hermione was in a state of undress. So, he cleared his throat loudly, and it didn't take long before Mordred poked his head out. Morgana gasped.

"Mordred?" she asked, "Is it really you? How are you? Is this where you live?"

Mordred's face brightened and he walked out fully so that he could hug Morgana.

"I missed you," he said, as earnest as only a child can be, "and yes, this is where we live."

"We?" Morgana asked.

"Hermione and I," he answered, "she's been taking care of me."

"Why?" Merlin asked, his tone barely concealing his suspicion.

Mordred narrowed his eyes at him, "Because she loves me, and I love her and we are a family."

Morgana's eyes shone with relief, "I'm happy to hear someone's been taking care of you. Speaking of Hermione, do you think I could see her?"

"Um..." Mordred poked his head back in the tent, "she just fell asleep. She was hurt, and very upset. You could see her, but don't wake her up."

Morgana smiled at Mordred's innocence. She didn't have the heart to tell him that by seeing Hermione she meant to talk to Hermione, so she ducked in and sat down next to Hermione. As soon as Morgana saw Hermione, however, tears sprung to her eyes.

"Oh, Hermione," Morgana sighed, "I'm so sorry."

Mordred sat down next to her, and held Hermione's hand in his own small ones, "It was very scary. I thought that man was going to kill her."

Morgana frowned, "How do you know that man, Mordred?"

He ducked his head and avoided looking at her as he answered, "I sneaked out of the camp and followed her. I was worried about her, and afraid she was going to get hurt... she got upset at me because of it."

"She's not upset at you, Mordred; she's upset at what could have happened to you," Morgana said, "I'm also upset. That man had a lot of women and children trapped in that cave with me, and I'm scared to think what he wanted to do with us. Just the thought he might have gotten to you too... it's very upsetting."

"Yeah... I know. He scared me."

Morgana put an arm around Mordred's shoulders, trying to comfort him. He relaxed against her, and when she turned to look at him some time after, she noticed that he was asleep as well. Her heart warmed; he was such a sweet kid. She was happy that Hermione had found him. She could rest better now, knowing he was not alone.

She laid him down next to Hermione and quietly exited the tent. She looked around for Arthur and found him sitting by the fire with Merlin. He looked so uncomfortable that Morgana wanted to laugh at him, and he was looking at the bowl of food they gave him as if it was suddenly turn into a sorcerer and curse him. That thought sobered her up, though. There were a lot of magic users in the camp, and she'd met some of them. She was worried that Arthur would go to Uther as soon as they arrived back in Camelot. She sat down next to him. He turned to look at her. She held his gaze.

"You can't tell your father about this," Morgana said.

"Morgana..."

"Look around you! They are mostly women and children. They don't mean Camelot any harm. Please, if Uther finds out... he'll have them killed."

Arthur finally looked away and rubbed his face, "I can't lie to the king."

"You don't have to lie," Morgana insisted, "just don't tell him."

"And when he asks where we found you?"

"Tell him you found me being attacked by that man, and that you fought him off. You don't have to mention the Druids at all."

"On the contrary, maybe if I tell him about their help, he will grant them a pardon," Arthur argued. Morgana let out a bitter laugh.

"He was going to let Merlin die after you came back with the antidote for the poison. You were already there, Arthur, and the deed was done. He only had to bring the flower to Gaius. Instead, he crushed it. Do you think that man will spare these kind people who helped us despite the risk to their own lives? You owe them."

Arthur wanted to say no, he didn't. Except that he did. Arthur also wanted to believe his father would be reasonable, but deep down Arthur knew he wouldn't. Arthur was already questioning his father's honor because he had lied to his face. He sighed deeply.

"I'll protect their secret," Arthur conceded, and Morgana exhaled in relief.

"Thank you, Arthur," she said.

A Druid woman came and offered her some water, bread and some form of stew. Arthur and Merlin already had their own. Morgana accepted, and then the woman sat down next to her.

"You must be the Lady Morgana," the woman said.

"I am," Morgana replied, "thank you for your hospitality."

"It's part of who we are," the woman replied.

Morgana ate her dinner in silence, grimacing when the tender muscles of her neck protested the action. That made her think of her attacker, and she turned to Arthur.

"Did you catch that man?" Morgana asked.

Arthur groaned, "He got away."

"How did he get away?" Morgana exclaimed, attracting some attention. She then looked away, embarrassed.

"We were on a search party, not a hunting party. When he realized he was outnumbered, he fled, and we couldn't catch him," Arthur summarized. He didn't tell her that the brute strength of that man alone ripped a tree from its roots and nearly impaled them all. He didn't tell her ran like a beast in all fours either.

"You must do something about him. I wasn't the first woman he kidnapped, and he also took children," Morgana said.

Merlin frowned, "How did you escape?"

Morgana blanched, "He... he came close to me and I kicked him against the wall. I took his knife and cut the ropes. The women took the children, and I escaped by myself, but he caught up to me quickly and... you know the rest."

It wasn't a very good lie, but it was the only one she could come up with on the spot. Arthur didn't press, whether because he thought she was too upset to relieve it or because he actually bought it, she didn't know. Merlin looked at her with skepticism, though. She sighed. Arthur seemed to be lost in thought. Finally, he spoke.

"What did he want with so many women and children, anyway?"

Morgana didn't know, and however much she tried to puzzle it out, she couldn't figure it out.

"Didn't Hermoine call the man a were-wolf?" Merlin asked all of a sudden.

"Yes, but what's that got to do with anything?" Arthur asked.

"According to Gaius, were-wolves are men who turn into beasts every full moon. He also said that their bite can infect others and turn them into were-wolves as well," Merlin explained. Morgana dropped her bowl of stew, startling Arthur.

"Morgana?" he asked.

"The pack," she murmured, "he said that I would be a good addition to the pack. Don't wolves move around in groups called packs?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed in realization, "You think he was trying to turn all of you into were-wolves?"

"It makes sense," Merlin added.

"How does it make sense, Merlin?"

"Because he didn't take any grown men," Merlin replied with a roll of his eyes, "wolves move in packs led by a male and female wolves. If the were-wolves behave similarly to them, then it makes sense that the man is looking for that female to lead the pack with."

"But he's not a wolf, he is a man," Morgana countered, "and cruel at that. I do believe he wanted to turn all of us into were-wolves, but I don't think he would have let one of the women lead anything."

"But then what does he want?" Arthur asked.

"He wants power," a voice behind them answered and they jumped to find Hermione making their way towards them, "the Lady Morgana is right. He doesn't want women to lead, he wants to dominate them. I'm sure you can guess how he does that, your highness."

Arthur knew, and he hated that he knew. He asked, "But why does he want the children, then?"

"For the same reason. Back where I come from, he would kidnap children and turn them into beasts just like him. Now, not every were-wolf is like that; I knew a were-wolf who escaped and strove for normalcy. But Greyback is not like that. He abuses the children and turns them against humanity, forcing them to kill, maim and turn others into were-wolves as well," Hermione explained.

The four of them sat in somber silence as they contemplated Hermione's words. Suddenly, Hermione gasped.

"When is the full moon?" Hermione asked.

Arthur was puzzled, "In two days, why...?For the love of... we have to go. Now! We have to tell my father."

Morgana trembled a bit, "Can't we wait until morning?"

Hermione shook her head, "There's no time to waste. As we speak, Greyback is healing and preparing to kidnap more women and more children. In two nights, regardless of how many victims he kidnapped, he will turn into a beast and he will use it to infect as many people as possible."

"You're not coming," Arthur said, and Hermione's face would have made them laugh if the situation wasn't so dire.

"But it's my fault he's here in the first place. Of course I'm going," Hermione exclaimed.

"What about Mordred?" Morgana asked, "You need to think about his safety."

"I'm thinking about his safety," Hermione, stubborn as ever, insisted

"He followed you to fight that man because he was afraid for you," Morgana countered, "do you really want him to follow you to Camelot?"

Hermione sighed and slumped, defeated.

"Fine," she relented, "but tomorrow I'll go to Camelot and you're going to tell me everything you discussed."

"Do you want to get yourself killed?" Merlin asked, but Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"I have to do this," Hermione replied, "if not for you, for myself. Tomorrow, be in Gaius's chambers in the afternoon."

Arthur and Merlin rolled their eyes, but they knew that Hermione would do what Hermione would do. Morgana seemed confused, though.

"What do you mean it's your fault he's here?" Morgana asked.

Hermione avoided her gaze, "It was an accident. He was going to... I used my magic to escape, but he latched onto me and he ended up following me here. If I hadn't..."

"Stop," Morgana interrupted, "it wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do to survive, and there's nothing wrong with that. He is the one we should blame."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and Morgana's followed suit. Morgana was disgusted by the way that man looked at her, smelled her and talked to and about her. It made her feel that perhaps she had done something wrong. Maybe, even, that her beauty was a curse. But now that she heard Hermione had similar thoughts of guilt, Morgana felt compelled to correct her; and in correcting Hermione, she corrected her own misplaced feelings of guilt.

In that moment, the two women looked at each other and understood each other. Regardless of what came next, they would never forget how this horrible experience united them.

Dawn was breaking when Arthur, Sir Kay, Sir Bedivere and Sir Leon arrived at full gallop to the castle's courtyard. A flurry of guards and squires received them, Gueneviere among them, and even the king himself. When Gwen saw Morgana being helped off the horse by Arthur, she burst into relieved sobs. The king sagged in relief and rushed to the lady.

"Morgana," he said and crushed her in a hug, which, after her experience, left her shaking as unwanted memories flashed through her mind.

"Father," Arthur said, sensing Morgana's discomfort.

"Arthur, how did you find her?" Uther asked with a manic glint in his eyes.

"Perhaps we should talk in private," Arthur suggested, and made a signal to Gwen who was practically vibrating in her place.

Gwen grasped Morgana's hands tightly on her own, which was as much affection as she dared show in front of the king, and led her back into the castle. On the way she asked a few servants to start heating up water for Morgana's bath, and to prepare some food as well. Arthur watched Gwen take care of Morgana with fondness, before turning to his father.

"I'll meet you in your antechambers soon," Arthur said, and Uther nodded and walked briskly back to the castle. Arthur then turned to his knights.

"I am speaking to you now not as your prince, but as your fellow knight," Arthur started, "we swore an oath to protect all the citizens of Camelot, did we not?"

"Yes," Sir Bedivere, Sir Kay and Sir Leon answered in unison.

"We also swore an oath to protect Camelot's laws, did we not?"

Again, the knights responded in unison, "Yes."

"Tonight, I witnessed with my own two eyes life within a Druid camp. Merlin was there and he can attest to what we saw," he shot a look at Merlin in which the 'or else' was very clear, "we didn't see anyone in that camp practicing sorcery. Morgana's wounds were healed with the same draughts and pastes you can find in Gaius's chambers. The food we ate was cooked by normal means and, clearly, it wasn't poisoned. Knowing that my father is a thorough man, he will ask for a raid if he hears of this Druid camp. Because I know and I witnessed that there was no magic in that camp, I ask you not to report about it to prevent innocent lives to be lost in the crossfire."

Sir Leon and Sir Bedivere nodded, but Sir Kay's lip curled into a sneer.

"The sorcerers may have been hiding when you were there," he said, and then added, "my lord."

"Sir Kay, were you in the Druid camp?" Arthur asked.

"No, sir, but..."

"So, you're telling me that my assessment of the situation as crowned prince of Camelot was wrong even though you weren't a witness yourself?" Arthur pressed.

Sir Kay, understanding that even if he came with his suspicions to the king he could never overrule the eye-witness of the crown prince, decided not to press the issue.

"I hope you were not implying, Sir Kay, that I am disloyal to my father, the king, or to Camelot," Prince Arthur continued.

"No, my lord," Sir Kay replied with his head bowed.

"It is our duty to protect the innocent citizens of Camelot. If we get another report, from the same Druid camp, that someone is practicing sorcery there, I will personally lead the raid," Arthur finished, and Sir Kay seemed satisfied.

Arthur didn't enjoy deceiving his knights. In truth, he did see magic in the camp: there were a couple of children charming butterflies to fly around them. Hardly something dangerous. Another thing he witnessed was Mordred blasting the were-wolf away from Hermione, and that could be dangerous, but it was clearly self-defense. Arthur, simply, didn't feel right repaying hospitality with brutality. His knights, however, would show no such conflict.

Therefore, Arthur decided that his best bet was to appeal to the legality of the issue. With no eye-witnesses to magic, the argument was hard to sustain in court, and the only eye-witness was himself. Merlin was, too, but Arthur trusted him not to go babbling around about it. Part of Arthur doubted that his father would actually need eye-witnesses reports to order a raid, but his knights didn't need to know that.

"You're dismissed," Arthur said, satisfied they wouldn't talk. He nodded to Merlin, letting his manservant know that he was included in that order, and then walked towards his father's antechambers. There, the king was waiting for him, looking only slightly more relaxed than he had earlier.

"Father," Arthur said, bowing.

"Arthur," Uther nodded, "thank you for bringing Morgana back to us. Now, I would like to know where you found her and who took her."

Arthur frowned, "How did you know someone took her?"

"Because she was clearly fed, or she would have been unconscious, and I noticed the rope marks on her wrists and her ankles. Her face and neck were also bruised," Uther reasoned.

Arthur resisted the urge to curse. Instead, he said, "Yes, someone took her father. He is a man who acts like a beast. Along with Morgana, the man kidnapped other women and children, intending to keep them captive. That man was the same man we encountered months ago when he was attacking that other girl... what's her name? Oh, Hermione! I can only assume he wanted her for the same reason he wanted Morgana."

Uther frowned, pensive, "Whatever became of that girl?"

"She left Camelot in the middle of the night and we haven't seen her since," Arthur answered.

"You didn't see her there tonight?"

"No, father, she wasn't there," Arthur said, hating how easily the lie slipped through his teeth. Since when did he actively lie to protect sorcerers? What had his life become?

"So you don't think she was behind the attack?"

"I didn't see any evidence to her involvement. From my assessment, she was just another victim. We were just fortunate enough to stumble upon her before he took her."

"Do you know why the man kidnapped Morgana?"

"From what I gather, Morgana was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was, indeed, taking a stroll through the woods when the man surprised her and took her."

"Do you think that man will attack again?"

"I'm certain that he will, and I'm concerned about that because two nights from now the moon will be full," Arthur said, trying to keep calm even as his heart was racing.

Uther frowned, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, back when we found that Hermione, she told us that he was a were-wolf. We didn't believe her, but we did search for his body without luck. I ran him through, father, and yet I fought against him, again, tonight. Gaius told us that were-wolves turn into beasts on the full moon, and I think that's the reason he kept Morgana and the other women alive," Arthur managed to say without stumbling. He was struggling with keeping his story straight and he could only hope Uther wouldn't look too deep into it.

Uther's face grew concerned, "Is he a sorcerer?"

"I didn't see him use magic, father, but his strength is not the strength of a normal man. I do believe he is cursed, however, and that he will want to attack when the curse is at full power, two nights from now."

Uther sighed, "Summon Gaius to my chambers."

"Now?"

"Yes, Arthur, now," Uther admonished, sounding like he had very little patient left. So, Arthur bowed and went as fast as he could without running to get Gaius.

Merlin felt like he was going to fall asleep standing. As soon as Arthur dismissed him, he went to his room expecting to fall down on his bed and sleep for a day. Much to his chagrin, that was not to be. Gaius was awake, seemingly waiting for him, and Merlin audibly groaned.

"What now?" he asked.

Gaius started, "Merlin!"

"Why are you awake?" Merlin whined, "What do you need?"

"I had an encounter with Hermione and it has kept me awake," Gaius said, "I'm afraid she might be more dangerous than we thought."

Merlin frowned. Wasn't Gaius constantly defending Hermione? While Merlin did have his doubts about her, time and time she proved that she wasn't their enemy. He was ready to trust her, especially given that Arthur trusted her; that and she hadn't bewitched him, which was always a plus.

"What makes you say that?" Merlin asked.

"She gave something to Arthur, and I need you to retrieve it," Gaius said, looking at him in the eye.

A memory niggled at the back of Merlin's head. Arthur told him that Hermione argued with Gaius on his behalf. That his father hadn't been honest with him, and that Gaius wanted to hide things from him. That Hermione was the only one telling him the truth. Were Arthur and Gaius referring to the same incident?

"What is it?"

"A stack of letters."

Now Merlin was as puzzled as ever, "From who?"

Gaius hesitated.

"If you don't tell me, I won't do it," Merlin said, "letters are a private matter, Gaius."

Gaius deflated, and this was the first time that Merlin had truly seen him look his age, "They were written by his mother."

Merlin's jaw dropped. He couldn't say that he understood... no, he... he couldn't do that to Arthur, to his friend. Why did Gaius want him to steal something so precious from Arthur?

"It's for the sake of the kingdom, my boy," Gaius continued, and Merlin wondered if he was that transparent, "it could plunge it into civil war."

"What's in those letters, Gaius?" Merlin asked while his head reeled.

Gaius opened his mouth and closed it, "It is a private matter that concerns the king."

"Then isn't it the king's fault if it all blows up in his face?" Merlin challenged, upset that Gaius would ask him to betray Arthur like this.

Gaius sighed, "Please, Merlin..."

"I can't... I won't betray Arthur like this," Merlin said as he shook he head, "he's my friend."

Just then, Arthur walked into Gaius's chambers looking harried.

"Gaius, my father has summoned you to his chambers immediately," Arthur said.

"Of course, sire," Gaius said, bowed and left the room after shooting a meaningful glance at Merlin. Arthur saw it as well.

"Merlin, I..." Arthur started, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat, "thank you."

"You heard?" Merlin asked.

"Hard not to," Arthur admitted, "though I have to admit that now I actively listen for conversations behind closed doors. I don't like that so many people are keeping secrets from me."

Merlin felt a stab of guilt pierce through him. It's not like didn't want to tell Arthur about his magic, but rather he was lying out of self-perservation, wasn't he? He would die if he told Arthur, wouldn't he? Arthur turned to leave, and Merlin spoke without thinking.

"Arthur," he said, and Arthur turned to stare at Merlin expectantly.

"Yes, Merlin?"

"What if I was also keeping a secret from you?" Merlin asked, in a low voice.

Arthur frowned, "You don't have to tell me everything, Merlin; despite what you may believe, I do understand the concept of privacy."

"I know, but..." Merlin hesitated.

Arthur only stared at him for an eternal minute.

"I have to return to my father chambers," Arthur said, "meet me in my chambers after you've gotten some rest. We can talk while we eat."

"We?" Merlin asked, puzzled.

"Well, didn't you just call me a friend?" Arthur asked with a smirk.

Merlin's shoulders fractionally relaxed.

"I did."

"It is a common thing to do to dine with friends, then" Arthur said, and turned to leave. Merlin exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Perhaps, if he was honest with Arthur, things would actually be okay. He believed in Arthur. He had to.

Author Note: I'm sorry for taking so long. That fight scene between Hermione and Greyback gave me a lot of trouble, and life in general has been busy as well. Leave a review, some kudos if you like, and share with another friend who enjoys to read Fanfiction.

Until we meet again,

Medieval Scribe