CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Finding herself one thousand years back in the past and in the legendary Kingdom of Camelot was something Hermione had never seen coming. But with no possible way back to the future and being stuck in the past, Hermione had no option but to form a new life for herself, and hopefully without changing the timeline. Unfortunately, matters of the heart cannot be controlled and she finds herself entwined in the lives of Prince Arthur and the great and powerful sorcerer, Merlin. Hermione x Arthur pairing.

Disclaimer: I do not own canon events and characters, they belong to J.K Rowling and the creators of Merlin, and the BBC. I am not making a profit from writing and posting this fanfic. I'm also making some big changes to the Merlin plotline so don't be surprised that nothing matches with canon. If I'm being honest, it's been years since I last saw the series, so I'm mostly going off what I remember and episode reviews and notes. And I've decided Arthur won't be dying.

AN

Hi, it's just me spamming your email again!

This was a requested pairing by several people though I'm not quite sure who as I can't remember which fics they were mentioned in the comments and I can't find the usernames. So, if you were one of them that requested it, I hope I did it justice.

This was originally a Hermione x Arthur x Merlin pairing, but the further I got into the plot, the harder it became to make the pairing work, so, unfortunately, this is just a Hermione x Arthur pairing, but I do plan on attempting a triad fic again in the future. As it is, I haven't seen many Hermione x Arthur fics, so, I've only added to the amount.

Anyway, I love Merlin, the great and powerful dork he is, and Arthur, the clotpole, too. I've working been on this for a while and I couldn't wait to share it with you. I've only a handful of chapters left to write, so I thought I might as well post it and give you a taste of what this fic's about and what's to come. And you won't have too long a wait until it's finished either, which is a bonus.

So, please, enjoy!

Page count: 7

"William!" Hermione signed in annoyance.

"Yes, milady," the brunette replied, his mouth twitching into a smile.

"If you do not stop, I swear, I'll purposely stab you," she told him lightly, her eyes remaining fixed on his forearm and her hands continuing with the motion of stitching the open wound back together.

"Milady?" He questioned innocently.

"You know exactly what you're doing. Not only is it annoying, but incredibly distracting. Don't play the innocent act with me, you've got nothing on the Weasley Twins," she said, her mouth twitching the faintest bit and her voice filled with fond sadness.

"Are they from your Kingdom?" He questioned, tilting his head curiously. It wasn't often the pretty sorceress divulged details of her past.

It had been a year since he'd found her. He'd been minding his own business, focusing on his task of trekking through the woods in search of firewood, when there'd been an explosion so loud, the ground had shaken and birds had fled from their nests with squawks. Despite the incident, there'd been no sign of screaming or injured people or of smoke and debris and his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd headed towards the source.

Everything had seemed to be perfectly normal, except for the figure lying sprawled out on the ground on their stomach. He hadn't been sure of who it was at first, but when he'd drawn closer, he'd seen a wild mess of hair, very strange clothing and a young woman clutching a wooden stick in her hand.

In his surprise, he'd dropped the firewood he'd been carrying in his arms and he'd closed the distance, falling to his knees beside her and rolling her onto her back. If he'd thought her clothing had been strange before, he'd certainly gotten a surprise when he saw the strange material and the way they fit to her form. His surprise had quickly been replaced by horror, seeing the dirt and blood that had soaked through the area of her stomach and right shoulder, the burns in her clothing that had reached the skin of her left leg, shoulder and right upper arm. Cuts had littered her face, some larger than others with blood barely trickling and others gushing down the side of her face, her hair sticking to her temple and cheek. Her skin had been sickly pale and clammy, her eyes sunken and her cheekbones sticking out.

He knew it wouldn't have been right to leave her there, he wasn't even sure how she'd gotten there and without thought, he'd done his best to lift her into his arms without disturbing her. He'd lost balance and almost dropped her, and yet, she didn't wake nor did she lose her grip on the strange wooden stick in her grasp.

Although she was by no means heavy, actually seeming to be lighter in weight than she should've been, he'd travelled farther than he usually did and it took more time than usual to arrive home. When he'd stepped out of the cover of the trees, he'd drawn the attention of some of the villagers, only two of them rushing forward to help whilst the others stared silently or whispered between one another. He'd refused their aid and carried her to Hunith's home, the only woman he'd trust with the young, injured woman in his arms.

Upon opening the door after the series of kicks he'd placed against the wood, the older woman's eyes had widened before ushering him inside, instructing him to lay her down on the table as she pottered about, searching for what little healing supplies she had available. Even when he'd been instructed to leave, he couldn't do so and seeing this, the mother of his best friend had allowed him to stay but had forced him towards her cot where she'd pulled a sheet to close him off from the rest of the small hut, allowing her and the young woman some privacy whilst she worked.

He wasn't quite sure how long he'd paced, how many times he cracked his knuckles or counted the stone of the walls that surrounded him. Hunith had a tendency to talk to herself and he was frustrated to find that although she'd been doing just that, she'd been doing it so quietly he hadn't been able to hear. It seemed as though hours had passed but he knew otherwise, there being no sign of changes in the sky, but he'd always been impatient, so he was thankful when she finally called for his presence.

"Her injuries will heal and she will be fine," she told him, and he unknowingly let out a sigh of relief.

He might not have known her, she was just a stranger to him, and yet he'd been the one to find her and bring her back to the village, so he knew it was only right he be concerned for her health; he hadn't gone to so much trouble to carry her home for her to just die.

"What happened to her, William?" Hunith asked.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I was collecting firewood when I heard an explosion. I followed the direction of the sound and found her. Do you know what happened to her?"

"I can't say for certain but I believe she shall wake soon," the older woman spoke. "Would you please keep watch as I collect some clean water from the well?"

He nodded, receiving a smile from the older woman who was but like a mother to him and when she left through the door, he took up the mantle of sitting on the stool beside the table, watching the young woman carefully.

Hunith had been wrong. It had taken two days for her to wake. During the day he'd tend to his duties of being the baker in the village, and the nights he spent sat on the stool beside the young woman until he fell asleep. If Hunith minded that he was invading her privacy when she was trying to sleep, he didn't know, but she'd yet to say anything.

Two days was a long time for someone to be sleeping. At first, he wasn't even sure she was alive given the lack of movement from her, but he'd soon seen her chest moving as she breathed slowly and quietly, but that was the only movement from her.

It was on the third night of him sitting beside her when he noticed the change in her breathing, when he saw her mouth part slightly, her eyes fluttering beneath her eyelids and her hands twitching, the right one gripping tightly to the wooden stick in her hand. Hunith had tried to remove it from the young woman's grasp several times over the days but hadn't been able to.

He sat straight on the stool, relaxing his body and face so he wouldn't look threatening and he remained quiet, allowing the young woman to wake in her own time. He thought of waking Hunith but decided against it.

It was a few moments later when he saw the eyes slowly open, blinking once, twice, her long dark lashes brushing her high cheekbones. She didn't move or speak, at least until he got a tickle in the back of his throat and he coughed to ease it. It was louder than he'd intended and it startled her. With a speed he thought should've been impossible, she was off the table and on the other side of the small hut, her eyes wide with fear, her hand braced against the wall behind her to steady her as she swayed, and the stick pointed threateningly in his direction.

"Careful," he said calmly, holding his hands up to show he had no weapons and he meant her no harm. "I mean you no harm."

"What happened?" She spoke, her voice a little hoarse from a lack of use and she frowned, pushing herself away from the wall and rubbing at her throat.

"I don't know," he answered. "I was collecting firewood when I found you. I brought you back to the village and you were treated to the best of our ability. We don't have a physician but Hunith is able to manage a few burns and cuts."

Her eyes lowered to the ground for a moment and then snapped up to him and she slowly lowered the wooden stick.

"If you don't mind my asking, who are you?"

"My name's Hermione," she responded.

"I'm William," he tilted his head. "Where did you come from? What happened to you?"

Her eyes fluttered closed and her jaw ticked as a thoughtful look crossed her face and then she looked back to him. Her eyes were more intense than they had been and he noticed her eyes take in his clothing slowly and then they darted about the small hut, widening in alarm.

"Godric!" She whispered, her eyes falling back to him. "Where am I?"

He watched her carefully. "Ealdor, a village of the Kingdom of Essetir."

"I don't understand," she muttered, shaking her head lightly and her wild hair fell into her face before she pushed it back over her shoulder.

"We're but a two day's ride from Camelot."

"I beg your pardon," she spluttered.

He looked to her strangely. "Camelot."

"Camelot?" She repeated dumfounded. "As in King Arthur?"

"No, well, someday, King Uther is on the throne and Arthur is but a Prince."

"Oh no! That's not possible," she whispered, before promptly passing out. He hadn't been able to catch her before she hit the ground.

It was another two days before she next woke and he'd received a telling off from Hunith for what had happened to her charge during her time sleeping. She'd been disorientated but hadn't sprung from the table, rather she sat up slowly, turning to face him and dangling her legs over the edge. He allowed her to gather her thoughts and she was the one to speak to him first.

That night, he'd learned of her belonging to the far off Kingdom of Hogwarts, of the war that had spanned decades and the trials it had brought her. She'd explained of how the Final Battle had taken place and once the Evil Lord had been destroyed, his Knights had fled. They'd been chasing her across the kingdoms and realms and had caught up with her in the woods and that was how she'd been injured. The next morning she'd spent time with Hunith and was given permission to leave, but she didn't. She stayed in the village.

It was two months later when he'd been walking towards Hermione's home which had miraculously been built on the outskirts of the village within two weeks of her arrival, when he witnessed her using magic for the first time with her lighting a fire pit. He'd known she was different, he didn't know how, but he had. She'd been horrified when she'd noticed his presence but not only did William have experience with keeping secrets regarding magic, he knew Hermione wasn't evil and she certainly had more control over her magic than Merlin had. He'd warned her of King Uther having outlawed magic and sorcery two decades prior and he kept her secret from the rest of the villagers.

A year after her arrival, Hermione was not only a well-liked member of the village due to her kindness and patience, but she had become their physician as they'd soon learned that not only was she very well educated, but her knowledge of healing far outweighed Hunith's, of which the older woman had been surprised but pleased with. When the young woman wasn't cooking up remedies and healing the injured, she taught not only the children but the adults as well, to read and write.

Looking at her now, William marvelled at the changes in her. Her behaviour was the same from the moment she'd woken up; she was kind and fiercely protective of those she cared for, to a standard that actually scared him, if he were honest. The physical changes were the most apparent. William knew that Hermione had always been a pretty young woman, but her cheeks were no longer sunken, her skin no longer sickly or clammy, her figure no longer malnourished. They didn't have much to offer in the ways of food but with the little scraps they'd been able to spare and give to her, she'd put on some weight.

With her beauty, kindness, intelligence and penchant for helping and protecting others, he knew that when she was ready to marry she wouldn't be short of suitors. William was only a little disappointed that he wouldn't be one of them. In the beginning, there had been potential between them but with too many mixed and missed signals, their relationship had quickly gone from maybe husband and wife, to best friend and sibling. He did love Hermione but as a friend and sister.

It was his own fault. He'd seen the way she sometimes watched him as he baked when she visited, when she accompanied him on walks through the woods in search of firewood or when she taught him to read and write. But he'd been too afraid, he hadn't felt himself worthy of her and those looks and glances suddenly faded. Sensing the change within her, he'd fought back his own feelings and they had soon formed into familial love. If he'd plucked up the courage, they may have been courting by now.

"Yes, they are from my Kingdom," Hermione replied softly. "I knew them very well, their parents all but raised me once I discovered my magic."

"They had magic, too?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Lord and Lady Weasley had seven children, six sons and one daughter. The youngest son, Ronald, was my best friend and his brothers and sister, my brothers and sister, too. I loved them very dearly. The twins, Fred and George, were hard to take seriously. They were full of life and laughter and they were the greatest jesters of my Kingdom. Even those that disliked them couldn't deny they were brilliant. They were incredibly smart, more so than I am."

"What happened to them?"

"George lost an ear during a battle a year before the Final Battle, and during the battle, Fred was severely injured, a wall had fallen on him. I left minutes after the Dark Lord had been killed and as such, I don't know if Fred survived. I don't know who survived and who did not."

"So why not go home? Why not travel to your Kingdom?"

"I can't ever go home, William," she said softly. "It is not possible."

William wasn't an idiot. Although he knew Hermione had shared deeply personal and important secrets with him, he knew there were still things she kept from him and he hoped she would someday tell him, but at that moment in time, he had to respect her wishes.

"All done," she said, pulling back from him and placing her 'tweezers' as she called them, down on the table beside him.

He looked down to his forearm, seeing the cleaned and sealed wound she'd stitched back together. With the work she'd done on his arm, he was sure she'd be a brilliant seamstress, the quality of her clothing only proved that.

"Please be careful," she said.

"It's not my fault," he protested.

"You are the one that was distracted and as such, fell and cut your arm on a sharp rock. I'm not entirely sure how you managed that, to be honest, given the positioning of the wound. In any case, try not to rip the stitches or the wound will reopen and bleed."

"Thank you, milady," he grinned, seeing the way she scowled at him in annoyance and she moved over to a bucket of water to clean her hands of his blood. "I best collect the firewood I dropped. Do you require more?"

"I'm perfectly capable of collecting my own firewood, William," she glared.

"I know, but I will be trekking through the woods anyway, it will save you a trip."

"Very well," she agreed begrudgingly and he grinned at her.

She crossed the room and collected the bucket by the side of the door, bringing it over to him, he took it from her and gave her a curious look.

"I have spelled it, not only will it carry more wood than you are able to, but the weight shall be nothing but a stone."

"Magic at its finest," he smiled.

"Magic is capable of many wonderful things, but many terrible things, too," she responded softly, a far off look entering her eyes.

William had seen this happen before and he knew to be careful when he reached out to her, sitting his large hand on her shoulder, her eyes darting back to him and she shook her head, ridding herself of the memories. William never knew if they were good or bad, he asked but she never answered.

"I shall make a start on dinner," she smiled. "Some of the children are looking a little peaky and I hunted two rabbits last night, they should do nicely. If you hurry, I'll be sure to keep some behind for you."

"I'll be as quick as I can," he nodded. "Do you require tree moss?" He asked, knowing she not only used it in her remedies but as insulation for her hut and as temporary bandages, too.

"Now that you mention it," she frowned thoughtfully, heading over to a second door and peeking inside the small storage space. "Yes, both green and orange."

"I shall keep my eyes open."

"Thank you, William. And do be careful."

"As my lady commands," he bowed, laughing as she swotted at his arm when he passed her.