Hello all, I'm back. We got back from the Games early (the canoeing was awesome by the way) and I actually managed to write this chapter yesterday. But then when I tried to upload it my computer went wibbly-wobbly-not-quite-timey-wimey so I gave up. You ought to get the next chapter some time later today.

Hey, the cookie thing actually worked! Either that or the chapter was so amazing you felt compelled to tell me. No? Fine, burst my bubble. Okay, this time if you leave a review a month's supply of chocolate will erupt from your printer.

Arthur sat at the table in his chambers and tried not to think about the fact that he had just sentenced his own sister to death.

Stop it, he said to himself. Think of what she's done. Think of what she did to Merlin.

But he couldn't stop thinking about it of course. He couldn't rid himself of the image of Merlin's marred body. He couldn't stop hearing the scream Gwaine had given when he had been cut by the knife. He couldn't stop imagining how painful it must have been.

He was amazed that Merlin hadn't given her the information she had been seeking. The pain he must have been in. But from what he had gathered, he hadn't once given in to her, he hadn't told her. Which brought him to another point. Why? Why had he been willing to endure such torture for the sake of a sorcerer? Gaius had said that the old man had nothing against either him or Camelot, but was he really worth such an ordeal? It was very hard to see why he would be this important. Perhaps there was more to the matter than he had originally thought.

He knew Merlin hadn't been entirely truthful when he'd questioned him in the woods, he clearly had left out certain details and downright lied about others. Arthur knew he wouldn't be getting the truth any time soon, so he made a mental note to ask Merlin about it again at a later date.

He thought about what had just happened in the dungeons. Merlin had come running in, almost knocking Arthur senseless in the process, and then asked to speak to Morgana. This had surprised Arthur. The last thing he had expected was for Merlin to ask an audience of the woman who had previously tortured him.

Anyway, he had let him enter Morgana's cell and shut the door behind him. He had heard slight snatches of conversation, but the only bit he had properly understood was when Merlin asked her if she was scared.

"About my death?" she replied. "No. I've never been scared of death, maybe a little of dying, but not death. I just wish I could figure out the difference between truth and lies before I go."

He admired her bravery in the face of her execution, but was confused by the last line. Truth and lies? It sounded like she was having some sort of internal conflict, unable to decide what was real and what wasn't.

He was surprised by the lack of hostility in her voice when speaking to Merlin. When she had spoken to him in the council room it had been with hate, she seemed to show no remorse for all the things she'd done to him.

And then when he'd finally decided that the two had had enough time to talk about goodness knows what other rubbish, he'd walked in to find them holding hands. Holding hands. What the hell? She'd been torturing the man just a few days ago and now they were holding hands? What was happening to the world?

His thoughts were interrupted when the door crashed open, banging against the wall. Merlin ran in and Arthur sighed exasperated.

"Merlin, will you ever learn to knock?" he said, frustrated.

"Erm, probably not. Arthur, can I talk to you about Morgana?" he rushed.

"Yes, in fact I'd like to talk to you about her as well," he said, standing up.

"Really?" he said, surprised.

"Yes. Why were you two holding hands?"

Merlin looked taken aback.

"What?" he said. "No we weren't."

"Yes you were. What was going on between you two? I don't know if you remember, but she was torturing you just three days ago," he said patronizingly.

"I know that," he snapped.

"Then what are you playing at?" he said, his voice rising angrily. "She's the enemy! She's going to be executed at dawn tomorrow!"

"Arthur, what if she isn't the enemy?" he began, hesitantly. "What if she's still the same person underneath? Morgause changed her, filled her head with hate, but she's still there! I know it! The same Morgana we used to know. She's still there Arthur!"

Arthur shut out these words, knowing they were lies. Morgana would never return.

"Merlin, you don't know what you're saying," he said, calming his anger.

"Yes I do. She's already having doubts, she's unsure of what's real and what's not. We can help her! Show her what the truth is. She's not going to come back, not if you don't forgive her –"

"How can I forgive her?! How can I let all of her crimes go? Think about everything she's done to us! Remember what she did to you!"

Grabbing his servant's arm, he yanked his sleeve upwards, revealing the blemished skin. Merlin yanked his sleeve back down angrily, recovering the cuts.

"She said she was sorry, or she was about to, before you barged in," he said, spitefully.

Arthur was shocked to hear him standing up for her like this, he doubted he would have done so just a few days ago.

"What … what are you talking about? She would never apologise."

"She did."

Merlin's stormy blue eyes had gone dark; they were foreboding, warning him to back down. But Arthur would have none of that.

"Merlin, think about what you're saying. This is Morgana we're talking about. The woman who betrayed us all. There's no chance of her redemption, not any more."

The words pained him. He still wanted to believe that the girl he had grown up with was there somewhere, waiting to come back to him, but he knew she wasn't. She was long gone.

"No," he said, backing away. "No, you're wrong. Please, Arthur. We can help her."

"Go away Merlin," he said, turning his back to him. "Leave me."

"She could change! She could ask for forgiveness!" he shouted. "You could be murdering someone with the potential to be an honest person!"

"Honest?! She is anything but honest. She lied to us, to everyone. She's probably just been lying to you, trying to make you think she's innocent. She is a liar and always will be!"

He had taken a few steps forwards so the two men now stood face to face, glaring at each other.

"You're wrong!"

Merlin stepped backwards, and didn't stop.

"You're wrong," he said again.

"Merlin!" he called, but it was too late.

Merlin had run from the room, the edge of his jacket whipping out of sight.

Arthur turned to the table and planted his fists on the wood. Merlin would see sense … he hoped. He was stumped as to what could have changed his mind so quickly about Morgana, and then a horrid thought crept into his mind.

Merlin couldn't be … enchanted, could he? What if Morgana had done something to him in the past couple of weeks? What if she had altered his mind somehow?

He felt an awful fear clutch his heart, but then calmed himself and melted the fear with another thought, a fact. People's magic always died with them. When Morgana died, he would be free. That is if he was even enchanted at all.

Elaine smiled. There. Emrys had done it. Morgana was beginning to change.

She had merely planted the seed of doubt in Morgana's mind; he had been the one to make it grow. And growing it was. It was only small at the moment, barely noticeable, but soon it would flourish. Soon it would become something beautiful.

She knew how scared her sister was at the moment, despite her efforts to hide her fear. But, in the face of her fear, she was being incredibly brave. Elaine was proud of her. She reminded her of herself, when she was younger she had refused to ever show any fear, no matter what the circumstances.

She looked to the sky. It was almost dawn, the time of Morgana's execution. She had stayed on the battlements all night, the guards had walked straight past her, somehow none of them had noticed the woman in the midnight blue cloak sitting on the stone wall.

She smiled sadly and stood up. It was time.

The day of Morgana's execution dawned bright and clear, with only the slightest of chills in the air. It seemed to Merlin as though the sky was mocking Morgana's death, laughing at the turn of events.

Half of the lower town was packed into the courtyard, all gathered around the raised platform in the middle. The lone figure of the executioner stood atop it.

Merlin hadn't been to Arthur's chambers that morning; he still hadn't forgiven him for what he had said the day before. He would probably give him some of the worst possible chores imaginable later on to make him pay for skipping work.

He stood in amongst the crowd, wondering why he was even there. He didn't want to see this and he couldn't do anything to stop it, not without revealing who he was.

The murmured whisperings around the courtyard died away. Merlin looked up and saw Arthur coming out to stand on the balcony with his knights. The king looked solemnly down on his people and then redirected his gaze to the archway leading into the courtyard.

Morgana was being led through it, her hands bound and her head down. It wasn't the same Morgana Merlin had seen a few days ago. She was still wearing the same dress, slightly torn at the bottom, but her hair was matted and tangled. Her cheeks were hollow, as though she hadn't eaten properly in weeks. Guards walked on either side of her, guiding her towards her death.

As she walked through the crowd, people hissed at her, their eyes showing nothing but hate for the woman before them. Merlin bit back the urge to yell at these people. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to die like this, no matter what crimes she had committed. She at least deserved to be given the chance to apologise properly. He knew that was what she had been going to say to him, and yet she hadn't even been able to get the words out, Arthur had intervened before she could say it.

Morgana grew ever closer to the platform, her eyes still firmly staring at the ground. But when she passed Merlin, they flitted upwards to meet his. For a second she hesitated, frozen on the spot, then she shoved the guard to her left away from her and ran towards him. People backed away hurriedly, escaping the evil witch. Morgana didn't give them a glance either way, she just headed for him.

He was startled, shocked by the intensity in her eyes. A guard caught her arms from behind and she cried out, struggling against his grip.

"Merlin!" she called. "Merlin," her eyes found his again.

"I'm sorry," she said.

His lips parted slightly, his blue eyes locked to her green. She had said it …

"Forgive me," she beseeched him, the guard starting to haul her away.

He couldn't say anything, he was frozen.

"Merlin!" she called once again.

His eyes welled up with tears. He choked them back and nodded.

"Yes," he said, barely audible.

But she had caught his nod and smiled gratefully, filled with joy. In that one smile he saw the old Morgana, the one person he had been longing to see for years.

But that smile was about to be rid from the world forever. He had to do something. He made an involuntary movement forwards. Morgana saw this and violently shook her head. She didn't want him to use his magic to save her. She didn't want him to risk it. She was prepared to die.

As she was led up the steps towards the executioner, Merlin's first tears fell, running down his cheeks. He did nothing to stop them coming, he could only watch as his friend was led to her death.

Morgana was led up to the platform, the two guards grasping her arms tightly, just in case she would make another break for it. But she wouldn't. She had got what she wanted, Merlin's forgiveness.

Something had happened to her that last night. After Merlin had left her cell, she had thought over his words. And then, when she had woken up that morning, she had realised. She had betrayed him. All those times she had done what she thought was right and she had been betraying him. She had hurt and tortured and enchanted and tried to kill him, and yet he was now crying as her last few minutes came to a close. He had an incredibly pure and unselfish heart.

Once Morgana was upon the platform, she was forced to face the balcony and her brother. Arthur looked down on her, slight confusion upon his face. Still, her performance hadn't changed anything, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"Morgana Pendragon," he said, his voice carrying impressively around the courtyard. "You have been found guilty of treason and numerous other crimes against Camelot and its people, and are hereby sentenced to death."

She hung her head and closed her eyes. This was it. Her last moments. Say goodbye Morgana, she thought. She was suddenly incredibly aware of all her senses. She could hear all the mutterings around the courtyard, and even fancied she could hear Arthur breathing on the balcony. Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips, trying to bring some moisture to them.

It occurred to her that she should say something. Her last words. Only nothing came to mind, so instead she just laid her head upon the block before the executioner.

Cailleach had been right. Emrys would be her doom. He hadn't meant it intentionally, but yes, he had been her doom. She would die here, thanks to the spell he had cast upon her, making her lose her magic. She had figured it had been him; Elaine hadn't been anywhere near that first time. She didn't blame him; she would have done the same if their positions had been reversed.

She thought about the nod he had just given her, his eyes full of tears, and smiled inwardly. He had forgiven her, yet it would take a lot longer to forgive herself. Still, it wasn't like she had much time left.

Morgana wondered what would come next. Was there an afterlife? She hoped she wouldn't go to Hell. She had never really thought about what came after life, preferring to concentrate on life itself. But perhaps there wasn't anything after all, maybe this was just it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the executioner raise their axe. She mentally prepared herself and closed her eyes. In her last few seconds, she thought about Merlin. She remembered his goofy smile and felt a small tear leak out of her closed eyelid.

She heard the swish of the axe as it swung towards her neck.

Don't-kill-me-don't-kill-me-don't-kill-me-don't-kill-me! I'm sorry! I promise I'll lay off the cliff-hangers for the rest of this story!

So half of you probably want to murder me right now, but when you read the next chapter (assuming that I'll get the chance to write it) I hope you'll understand why I did this.