I have no possible excuse to soothe you guys.

But if you would like one, I am completely sorry for this horrible hiatus. The past year has been crazy with finishing up school, researching and applying for college, continuing training and competing equestrian, catching up on other procrastinations, yada yada. I was so hoping to get started earlier at the start of this summer but my mind has been blown through the roof at how not laid-back my summer turned out to be. I was planning on working a part-time job and working with six horses. Instead, I got the part-time job serving, began working with twenty-four horses, and partly managing a boarding and lesson barn and its summer camps with two other people as heads and various and lovely volunteer counselors and a great set of friends, bless their souls [not that I'm very religious to begin with], I would've died without them. They have saved my sanity so far. However, all this craziness took away from my writing drive and honestly for a while I lost some of the passion, and I refused to give you half-ass work. You guys deserve better. I've been in your reader's position where an author seems to disappear and it sucks. So hopefully I'm back to the end! I've already begun writing farther into the next chapters, and I really hope you guys still enjoy this story! And if you've read all of this then thank you, because I know you're more eager for the story, but that you probably want answers. And I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but I will now if I haven't: I will never do an author's note by itself to torture you guys into a false update. The only one that might ever happen is after a story is fully completed and to let you know of a sequel. But in writing stories, I do not give you false hope of an update with an author's note, it just seems cruel because I've been in those shoes. Instead, like here, I will do my note with an uploaded chapter.

Chapter 11: Tragic Clarity

Hermione's POV

High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life
Fight fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time
Hold still right before we crash 'cause we both know how this ends
A clock ticks 'til it breaks your glass and I drown in you again

'Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn't need
Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don't know why

If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?
If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?

Why are you my clarity?

(Clarity by Zedd [ft. Foxes])

Heat.

Pain.

"..! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

So much pain.

The feel of her knife more vivid in memory than ever. The delicate and torturous time she took making each slice just perfect enough to scar mentally and physically forever.

Screaming.

My screams.

A distant scream echoed in the shadows. Someone crying my name.

"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

More carving.

More good faith in her ability to work that knife.

More screaming.

More unbearable pain.

More praying to have just died versus enduring spending one more second in the hands of this cruel woman.

Fate, unfortunately, allowed otherwise.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

That was where the thrashing began. As if I wasn't struggling enough already.

That was the kind of reaction where your body spasms out, the back arching, the fingers clawing, the tears drenching, the inhuman shrieks tearing up your vocal chords. You're beating the barrier of the floor preventing you from an escape, since consciously moving anywhere is out of the question. Your knuckles bruise as you're hitting the hard floor beneath you, you might of split one open, not that you would've noticed. Not that you're consciously aware of any of these factors. That would be merciful, to instead worry over how sweaty and in pain you appear. Instead your mind is raped by the painful sensation of millions of knives stabbing you all over repeatedly and without mercy. The kind of pain where your bones feel as if every single speck of them has been torched with flames. The amount of pressure the pain inflicts, added along to the screams you hardly feel scald your throat, convince you that your head has split open along the scalp. The kind of experience that people fear of becoming acquainted with. The kind that plagues victims of haunting nightmares. The kind of memories that have left you waking up screaming.

"PLEAS- AHHHHHH!"

I'm jolted upright and forward, sweat covering my body. I barely take into account that my head is throbbing, or that the entire side of my face is feels bruised. The only image in my hazy head is the one of her wand and the pain the follows.

I hear a soft voice attempting to calm me in a soothing tone. I finally notice that my body is rocking gently back and forth, despite being in the sitting position. I begin piecing together that my face is pressed firmly into somebody's chest, and that while my arms hold them in a vice-like grip from where I latched myself onto them for security, theirs are also firmly wrapped around me in a protecting and comforting position, gently keeping me moving.

My mind picks up the sense that I've been sitting on a soft and rather large bed, the kind that I have in my quarters at the castle I've somehow managed myself to get through mostly luck and a good cover story.

I become conscious of my body's wrenching sobs and shuddering frame against the poor soul that's taken this compassion for me in my time of weakness, and my mind finally picks up on the words that have been spoken nonstop since I was wrenched out of my nightmare.

".. Just breathe... It's okay, Hermione... No one's going to hurt you… Not while I'm here… Just breathe…"

And I listen, regardless to whether or not I believe in the truth of his words or not. But I focus on my breathing, and in getting my heart rate down and regaining my composure. And I know he feels it too, feels me getting control back over my emotions and my breathing. At some point he had started rubbing my back as well, which upon recognition I found extremely soothing and appreciative.

I take a deep breath, and another, and another, and finally convince myself to start sitting back up, shifting my body and releasing the locked victim stuck in my arms. This motion did not go unnoticed and he adjusted himself to sitting back up and to taking his arms back as well. I still had not yet looked at him, my eyes blankly staring at the darkened version of my room at Camelot, and coming to accept the concept that I was indeed currently safe and unharmed in my temporary hotel suite, for lack of better terms.

I had regained full composure by now and gambled my chances taking a look at him. Indeed I was correct in my assumption as well as matching voice to recognition, but I was still confused as to why he was here, staring at me so intensely and encouraging this thick atmosphere between us, barely a foot away from each other. His face showed genuine concern, along with worry and a hint of grogginess.

"Better?"

It took me a minute to rationalize that the question came out the same time as the man's mouth moved in front of me, my throbbing head giving no inclination of helping the situation any.

"Why are you here?"

My voice croaked on the first word, hoarse from all the screaming that had apparently not all been imaginary in my dreams.

Arthur looked slightly taken aback at the forwardness of the question, especially considering the delicate situation we found ourselves in not moments ago, but recovered well and replied just as softly as before.

"What do you remember?"

And that's when I shut my eyes. Both in retaliation to the question pounding the barriers in my head painfully as if I'd been listening to loud music for too long, as well as attempting to recollect any last conscious memories before ending back up in my bed. There was something, but it was very hazy.

"I remember… uh… we were riding… Morgana and I… no… we joined you guys… we all went riding… uh… Percival?... He was bewitched… my throat hurts… not from him.. from.. from screaming… bad memories… uh.. Stella... I was riding Stella…. She took off?... We almost had it.. but… but she fell by the river… we fell… we flipped.. or rolled… it's too fuzzy… I just remember seeing the world flip and her hoof covering up the sunlight… shading my face…I don't remember anything after that…"

Blue eyes were focused on my face intently, and if I wasn't so far out of it that conscious thought might have called him out on it, or might have forced my eyes away to break the contact. But at that moment of time I could've cared less, I was lost in staring back into them just as intently.

"Why are you here?"

I repeated my question; still seeking a proper answer seeing as he never answered it, as well as my rational mind catching back up with me.

"Percival was bewitched. You were the one to figure that out. And your horse bolted, we believe the sorceress did something to her to freak her out as such, Merlin says it looked like she threw a spell your direction or something. We don't know for sure. We haven't been able to catch sight of her again. Plus we were trying to keep up with you. And you're right, your horse slipped by the river, turning left too sharply, even with good footing she didn't have chance. The ground gave way to let her momentum carry her forward. You both hit the ground hard, rolling. You got stuck under her feet for a minute. Thankfully she seemed to recollect herself enough to not freak out. You could've easily died if she had kicked out and thrashed around."

The events he described played out chronologically in my hazy memories and so were accepted as truth. There seemed to be some other point of view he wanted to mention but held to himself. I was too tired to interrogate him.

"You passed out as we pulled you out from under your horse's legs. We're back in Camelot now, in your chambers at the moment. You've been unconscious since the fall, so this is the first you've woken up. It's sometime early in the morning, maybe a few short hours before dawn. Gaius has been keeping tabs on how you've been doing. You got pretty bruised up during the fall, and your neck is slightly bruised as well from earlier."

I continue staring at him, taking note that he's still in the same outfit of an easy riding selection that he was wearing earlier during the patrol. My eyes narrow, all of the information being processed but annoyed at him avoiding the question.

"I can rationalize how me getting severely bruised up falling with a thousand pound animal can render me unconscious for a good portion of a day. I still have yet to rationalize with what excuse you have for being found in my bedroom in the middle of the night."

Straight to the point with a more lucid mind done beating around the bush, Arthur began to look sheepish and started avoiding my eye contact under the accusing stare I was holding on him. Out of the corner of my eye I took notice of the chair pulled up to the side of my bed as if in a patient and visitor scenario in a hospital.

"I was concerned. You took a hard fall and did not wake up. Of course Gaius saw to you right away, but I could not rest properly without the security of knowing that you would indeed wake up in a decent condition. Not to mention you can hardly hold me to the paranoia I think everyone is holding due to this mysterious sorcerous who seems intent of your head on a spike and seems to have had no issue so far about getting close to you. Call me overprotective but I hate being left in an uncomfortable and helpless position."

His words left me in chills. The tension in the air rising with each passing moment, particularly when he looked back in my direction once more, as if to gage my reaction to what he had said. And what he had said made sense, despite the rational part of my mind reminding me that I was in way too deeply dug in a hole to climb back out without leaving someone behind. But at the late hour that it seemed to be visually, reinforced by the zero amount of energy my body had physically, my mind seemed to no longer care about rationality and choosing between right and wrong, my happiness versus for the better of mankind. And that seems to be the problem with humanity, everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing themselves.

"You've stayed awake by my bedside all night long just for me to wake up?"

I didn't truly require an answer. All the evidence was laid out in front of me. The chair. The stiffness in his body. The bags under his eyes. The sluggish reactions he provided. He didn't sleep one wink. He really waited all night, no matter how unnecessary that might have been.

"I don't regret one second of it either, considering it took me several minutes to wake you up from whatever nightmare was plaguing you. Do you have them often?"

I didn't answer, because honestly within the past year I have had reoccurring nightmares filled with all that's gone wrong being best friends with my poor trouble-magnet friend, Harry Potter. Especially since the Dark Lord came back full force this past year, my sanity has been barely holding it together, and pushed to the brink when our trio had to go solo. With the whole prisoner-torture session at Malfoy Manor, I'm honestly surprised there hasn't been more. Regardless, I typically have begun putting silencer charms around my bed so as not to alert anyone about this issue, but I haven't been able to do it without a wand, and for some reason my sleeping in Camelot has been a roller coaster of best nights since childhood to nights like tonight. Despite this conclusion, I still refused to even consider giving him a correct answer. I was in the mood to stay in control. Answering questions was not in my line of interest.

"Why do you make this so difficult for me?"

And, more towards myself quietly, though still clearing audible in the dead of night for him to hear, I could not make sense of the questions burning in my head.

"If our love is tragedy, insanity, really, why are you my remedy? Why are you my clarity?"

At this question, quietly and somewhat rhetorical in my opinion, he looked surprised and confused by its meaning.

"What are you talking about?"

Again, I didn't answer. Not verbally at least. Instead, I stepped way outside my boundaries, as well as my comfort zone. Later, I might attempt to blame it on the random hour of the night, or the throbbing head making any rational thought confusing and torturous. I might even deny that anything ever happened. But as of the moment, the only passing thought that registered in my mind was that somewhere along the way I had thrown myself forward once more to throw my arms around the back of his neck, and instead of crushing my head against his chest for the feeling of security, my instincts somehow directed my mouth crashing into Arthur's, catching him by surprise in searching for the feeling of passion, my arms pulling him closer to me. To my hazy delight he caught on with rapid pace, opening his mouth and slipping his arms around my lower back, pulling me farther up onto him.

I can't say how long this went on for, our lips crashing against each other and drinking each other in, especially with such a hazy thought process. But I will say, despite what I might say later, I knew in that moment I could never regret that risked leap, and that I had the best night sleep that night after he made sure I was comfortable and headed back towards his chambers for the few short hours of sleep before Merlin would come wake him up and Gaius would come to check on me, both to be surprised at how both Arthur and I will seem to be great morning people for probably the first time ever. However, there was only one thought left pondering in my mind before I passed out once more.

Why is he my clarity?

Women have mystical powers, I've come to determine.

There's something about the way they are able to analyze you and watch you like a hawk, seeming to pick you inside and out and explore all those secrets you desperately do your best to hold onto.

I hadn't even made it to leaving my room shortly after waking up around noon, before a knock at my door had Morgana poking her head in searching for me. Upon finding me awake and sitting cross-legged on top of my bed, she seemed to nod to herself as if to confirm a thought as she promptly came in and shut the door behind her.

In the meantime, I had stopped going over the surprise morning wakeup Arthur had stopped by with not too long ago in my head to scrutinize Morgana's true motives for coming to check on me, because while I don't doubt she was just as concerned as everyone else that I went down with a horse, the aura she's giving off in her body language and that signature smirk she's been staring me down with since walking into my room not 2.5 seconds ago give me a few vibes telling me a completely different story. One, that, I'm not sure if I'm ready to confront yet or not.

Regardless, I didn't have to speak a word because she barely missed a beat.

"So, I just passed Arthur on the way over here. He seemed to be in an excellent mood this morning," she went on, searching to get a response out of my poker innocent face, or at least I hope that's what I had on.

"Funny, really, he's not typically a morning person who's all bright and bubbly. Especially with so much stress of random attacks on his people going around. Yet he actually greeted me this morning with a bright smile and a cheery 'Good Morning!' Wonder what's got him all lit up like the morning sun, don't you?"

I was doing my very best not to give any reaction, but I could already tell my poker face sucked and that she was having way too much fun to consider this fascination to be healthy. I held no verbal response at the moment, not the best of my quick-thinking comebacks, and threw up my hands in a shrug, unable to provide an answer for her.

Not that she needed one. Not when she stops beating around the bush and just goes straight to the point.

She makes her way forward to sit on the end of my bed and her girl gossip side comes out and gets all riled up for good old fashioned news, especially since there rarely seems to be anything worthy of talk as good as this lately. Her face is all ecstatic as she leans in close with narrow eyes, reviling in the cracks of my poker face.

"So how was it finally making out with Arthur?"

And that was where I cracked a smile and finally made direct eye contact with her.

Arthur's POV

I'm convinced that Morgana knows. There's something about women where they just seem to know before anything even makes it out of your mouth. It's like they have mystical powers, I swear. One second I'm passing her in the hall on my way to the training field opening my mouth to say 'Good Morning!" because it's been a while and the next second she takes off sprinting towards the direction I just came from. I swear, I will never be able to understand the mind of a woman completely.

I even thought I was getting close to learning more about Hermione early this morning at some godforsaken hour when her nightmares had her screaming awake, petrifying me with the shrieks that had seemed against the natural order of things. Yet, just when I felt as if I started getting somewhere, she turns the tables around, takes control of the questioning, and ends up taking a spinning control of an extreme act of passion that I will admit I never saw coming, but surely engaged in, of course, as a gentleman.

Another smile makes it to my face involuntarily as I remember the surprise at how she took control over the situation. And it widens as I recall my quick visit to her chambers this morning to see if she was awake yet or not, and how I could not resist taking a little bit of control back myself, which had no intentions of waking her up with a good morning kiss but concluded with something more along the lines of the previous session. I had to stop by my chambers quickly to double check that I didn't give off any of my midnight extravagances in my appearance.

Of course, those extravagances happen to be the only conscious thought lingering in my mind all training long, eager to test those boundaries to see if I could get more and pray it wasn't just a hazy reaction of the night bruising and headache she sported. But if this morning was anything to go by, granted it took her by surprise, I can proudly hold onto that so far so good.

And with that thought dancing around in my head, my feet somehow got swept out from underneath of me as my back hit the ground hard, my vision recognizing a sword pointed down towards me as I put my hands out in surrender at the loss, a dumb smile still tugging at my face.

"Damn, I'm with Merlin on this one guys, princess is definitely off his rocker today if he let me beat him so quickly."

And honestly, I didn't really have a defense mounted up to challenge that. I was content, which has been a foreign feeling for me for such a long time that I haven't wanted to dismiss it yet. It is, after all, such a pleasurable feeling.

I see a stretched out hand in front of me, an offer, and take it as Gwaine lifts me back off the ground, giving me a slight pat on the shoulder as he gives me a light shove towards the benches to take my equipment off. I head over and sit down, staring after the knights still training but not really seeing. I was practically daydreaming in memories until a voice brought me back to reality.

"So Hermione's feeling better, I assume?"

I sigh. Complete contentment as I respond while he helps me take off my armor.

"Much. She woke up sometime early this morning, of which I then left her to sleep some more. I stopped by this morning as well and she was feeling much better, a little bruised, but that has not dampened her attitude the least bit."

The last bit may have been said a little too smug, but I was hoping Merlin would overlook that small detail my tone somewhat let slip in a hint. However, as with any case, when one actually wants Merlin to be oblivious to something specific, it happens to be the one piece of information he actually picks out.

"Why do you say it like you had some make out session or something? I know there's been a little bit of some tension between you two but I was pretty sure it hadn't gone anywhere that far yet," he said with a laugh as he finished getting the last bit of armor off of me.

I, however, had no response to this usual banter as I typically do, which seemed to be my first mistake seeing as it was the first indication that Merlin truly picked up on as he turned around with wide eyes and an amused smile.

"Or apparently has gotten that far…" he trailed off with the wide-eyed smile.

Of course I had to respond before his imagination carried his innocent little head to crazy land.

"I never confirmed anything of the sort," I began, before Merlin beat me right back without missing a breath.

"You never denied it either."

Damn.

It still amazes me how over the years this klutz of a servant has become probably the sole person above a couple close few that knows me inside and out and can pick a part my mind better than I might before I might even notice, and also anticipate my moves before I have a chance to play the game.

I couldn't resist the smirk that grew on the side of my face as I nonchalantly threw back at Merlin, "I am the Prince of Camelot and what I admit or deny to is none of your business to be meddling around with in the first place."

Yep. By this point I might as well be asking for Merlin to get out a piece of parchment and quill and begin documenting because sometimes I swear he does it before he goes to sleep so as to remind me of all the times I never listened to him when he was right with good and factual situations of evidence.

"Wow, I did not see that one coming. At least for a while, since it was a gamble how long you two would hold out. But I have to ask, who made the first move, I'm dying to know, quite honestly."

And that's when I noticed Percival hanging back by the other bench and doing his best to stay out of the way and unnoticeable, attempting to make the huge frame seem small in the environment.

"I'm not giving you any details, Merlin, who knew you could be such a girl," I threw a smirk in for good measure and as I began walking away to converse with Percival, I couldn't resist providing one tidbit of information over my shoulder on the way.

"Though I will say she definitely caught me by surprise."

And with that, leaving Merlin gaping like a fish out of water, eyes all bugged-out and a resistance preventing him from jumping up and down like a kid in excitement, I finished making my way over to Percival, who at this point caught onto my detour by him and began to sit up straighter and more in confidence to cast out the image of looking weak and defeated.

I took a seat next to him.

"How are you holding up?"

Percival glanced towards his hands in his lap before once again looking out onto the training field in front of him.

"It was the oddest sensation. Being bewitched. It was as if everything that the woman suggested sounded like a great idea. 'Get up and go stand by Hermione.' Sounded like a great idea. 'Go up behind her and act like a knight trapped in an enemy fortress and headlock Hermione as if wanting to receive information on how to escape.' Sounded like a great idea. 'Give her a message for me, exactly as I say it, she'll understand it.' Sounded like a great idea. It was as if any free will I still held onto was put on a temporary hiatus. And I know that some people say that they were bewitched and don't remember anything, but honestly I don't know which one I'd prefer. Aside from not being bewitched again at all in general if one can help it."

I sat next to him pondering this new information, mulling it all over and storing it for later usage, a few points still sticking out for further clarification.

"Wait, so you felt none of this during the ride out there? This just came sort of sudden when we started packing up?"

Here I looked towards Percival, who looked just surprised at the question, but still giving it a considerable amount of thought before answering as honestly to the best of his ability.

"I mean, not to say I'm any expert of magic, but I felt fine up until then, nothing to really give or hint away at my bewitching, whether that's how it was supposed to work or not."

I considered the response, still thinking back to Hermione's reaction. The clipped way her tone answered it without emotion had scared him at the time, and he did not like the way she was so focused on watching the tree line. He had actually felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up, as he did before her horse bolted like a bat out of hell. That same chilling feeling that must only be brought around when the witch is nearby. But in believing that explanation as the truth would accept that the witch had been nearby their little campfire which would prove Hermione was lying to his face. For any specific reason, I had no idea, no matter how the slight betrayal at the lack of trust tempts to sting his face, but the fact is that she had wanted to handle the witch on her own, and while she didn't confront the witch any time directly, she almost died the other day. Let's just say, there wasn't going to be any other option of trying to protect herself and fight off her demons by herself, whether or not she accepted the help or not. She's now in my kingdom and I will do all I can with everything in my power to see this witch brought to justice.

"And while Hermione fell back to talk with me on our way back, she seemed pretty adamant about making sure that you knew nothing of the message the witch had me translate quietly into her ear, but I felt as if you of all people should at least know, so as to be cautious in case it does mean something versus the mini story she gave me, which sounded convincing but still had a wrong vibe to it."

Here, I started paying attention once again, shifting my focus back to the present to follow what Percival was trying to tell me. I nodded my head to indicate to him to continue on.

"The witch had me tell her 'the place you love most,' '4800,' 'alone,' and 'don't disappoint.' She, of course, when I asked her about it, tried to make it out as no big deal and that it was something that went wrong in the past and was just another haunting reminder of all the struggles she's had to live through to see back home in her war. But like I said, I've been in war too and it sounds like a very convincing threat to meet each other, still as enemies but almost to talk about some arrangement or truce of some kind. I'm just saying, I don't know how much truth is behind each side of the story, but I figured that you should at least know, and want to know, even if it is just paranoia. I would just feel horrible if something happened and I had held back that information, you know what I mean?"

And process this information that I would want to know I did. I was extremely glad Percival mentioned it, because she never did, take away from the time she was unconscious. Regardless, I sincerely thanked Percival and let him know he had served me well, no matter how the magic bewitched him, and moved to get up and leave the training field with Merlin, the whole time ignoring the smirks that my too-smug manservant was throwing my way since forming his own hypothesis and the past twenty-four hours' secret agenda, and the other side of my mind trying to decode the warning Percival delivered to Hermione. Whatever it translates to, I know that first, Hermione knows exactly what it means and just refuses to tell us so as to leave us in the dark, and second, that I'm not going to let her fight her demons on her own, no matter how many doors she'll try to shut in my face.

For the first time in a long time, my eyes are clear to what I believe is important to me at the moment in time.