Hatred and vengeance, my eternal portion,

Scarce can endure delay of execution,

Wait, with impatient readiness, to seize my

Soul in a moment

Lines written during a fit of insanity, William Cowper

Guinevere picked listlessly at her dinner, knowing she should eat but finding the prospect entirely unappealing. The castle chef Audrey had been sending increasingly extravagant meals hoping to entice her appetite, but Gwen felt sick to her stomach and could not manage the rich morsels and sweet treats, often making her maid Constance try them instead. She had been happy to do so, the daughter of a seamstress had never eaten so well, but she'd clearly reported the failure back to the kitchens and so that night Audrey had changed course, and sent up a simple but hearty beef stew.

It had almost worked. Beef stew was a sentimental favourite, the dish her father had made for her and Elyan after their mother had died, as she must have confided to Audrey at some point over the years when they'd chatted as she prepared meals and Gwen washed dishes in the castle kitchens.

The rich yet earthy aroma was enticing, but Gwen couldn't quite bring herself to eat and instead pushed the stew around the bowl with her spoon, lightly tearing apart the slow cooked beef, lining up the root vegetables and mashing the onions, but unable to lift any of it to her mouth.

Elena, who sat beside her, was having no such trouble, exclaiming heartily that it was the best stew she'd ever tasted in between mouthfuls and casting glances at Gwen to see if her praise had any effect. When it did not, she resumed her animated conversation with Valeda seated opposite, who was breaking apart bread with her hands and dipping it in the stew before consuming.

Merlin sat opposite Gwen - Arthur's place at the head of the table still sat empty. He too was not eating, and was staring at her with sullen disapproval.

"You can stop looking at me like that," she said sharply, putting down her spoon. " I know I need to make a decision."

"You've already made the decision," Merlin said with surety. "You just need to give the order."

He was right, as usual. Cartigern had committed treason, and for that the law of the land was punishment by death. Yet she was still Queen, and she could commute his sentence if she chose - as she had done for his fellow conspirators who had shown contrition.

She did not like the idea of execution, although it was certainly not the first she'd ordered. Her old maid Sefa, who had spied at her father's behest, although it had been a ruse and Guinevere had never intended to follow through with it. More recently Eira, who had exploited Gwaine's affections and betrayed them all to Morgana and helped seal Arthur's fate.

But even then the sentence had been passed by proxy, the decision made in Arthur's absence, to uphold his law. It felt quite different to be solely responsible for the end of another's life, as sure as if she had tied the hangman's noose herself.

But did Cartigern deserve a reprieve when Eira had not? She had merely followed the orders of another, where he had been the instigator of the entire plot. So why was Gwen finding it so hard to pass the sentence she knew he deserved?

"It must be so difficult," Elena spoke up with sympathy. "My father is out of sorts for days after an execution - it never sits right with him."

"Yet he knows it is necessary," Merlin said. "He does not shirk from the duty."

It was a barbed accusation, intended to raise her ire. Since his return from the battle Merlin had fully recovered, his magic as strong as ever, and yet he remained anxious and troubled, stalking the halls of the castle and the streets of Camelot as if to quell any further insurrection by his mere presence. He feared a plot to free Cartigern from his prison cell, even though no evidence had been found to indicate any such thing.

Gwen chose not to let her goad her into an argument, and instead turned to Valeda. "How is wrongdoing punished among the Druids?"

"In the old days, rather brutally," Valeda said as she set down her bread. "For severe crimes, one's magic was extracted from them by a creature known as the Gean Canach."

Merlin shuddered. "Don't remind me."

"This was done to you?" Valeda was visibly shocked. "I thought there was no remedy?"

"The power of the Crystal Cave restored me."

"The Crystal Cave?" Valeda's eyebrows rose high. "I have been there, but it did not yield its secrets to me."

"You're better off," Merlin mumbled darkly. "Trust me."

"It is very strange," Valeda said, looking Merlin over, "that the Triple Goddess would choose a man as her greatest strength on this earth."

"Maybe there's a power out there greater than the Goddess," Merlin shrugged; it was clear he did not much care where his abilities came from. Valeda pursed her lips and turned back to Gwen.

"Violence is rare among ourselves," she said. "If there is a dispute between two druids it is brought before the tribe and the matter settled by a triad - a kind of court made up of three arbiters. The parties must abide by the ruling, or be cast out."

"Exile," Gwen mused, wondering if all her problems could be solved by sending Cartigern to Gaul.

"You could never send Cartigern far enough away," Merlin gave her a hard look. "Don't even think about it."

"I know," she replied equally harshly.

"Then I just don't understand why we can't finish this already!" Merlin threw his spoon down, splashing stew onto the table.

They all sat in silence for a few moments as Gwen and Merlin stared at one another. Then Elena cleared her throat and pushed her bowl away.

"Well I'm stuffed!" she said cheerily. "I've always found a good walk after dinner aids digestion, wouldn't you agree Valeda?"

"Yes, a sound principle." Valeda nodded, rising to her feet. "Thank you for dinner, Guinevere."

Elena squeezed Gwen's shoulder lightly in solidarity or comfort, but then she and Valeda took their leave. Constance scurried over to clear the dishes, likely thankful for an excuse to depart as well. Gwen's bowl was still untouched, and Constance gave a small sigh.

"I'll leave that for you, my lady," she said with more hope than reprove, and then left the room. Alone, Gwen and Merlin stared at each other for several more moments, but finally he gave a deep sigh, ran a hand through his hair and leaned back.

"I don't want to fight," he said. "But the sooner Cartigern is dead, the sooner we can all move on. There is unease in the town - they want this to be over, they want to see the man who tried to harm their Queen swinging from a rope."

"You would see him hanged?" she asked, "like a common thief?"

"What else is he?" Merlin was incredulous. "You're the last person I would expect to sentence a man to an easier death because of his rank."

"And if I didn't sentence him at all?" Gwen rose and moved deeper into the room. "What if Camelot was a kingdom where no man died by the order of their queen?"

She expected another outburst, but instead Merlin sat quietly at the table. His face was turned away, his head slightly bowed, and Gwen waited, folding her hands over her belly in a gesture that had become a habit.

"I think it's a pretty dream," he said eventually, rising from his chair and turning to face her with a sad smile.

"And what's stopping me from making it a reality?" she pressed. "What if I said no more? End this cycle of violence, show mercy instead of vengeance?"

Merlin opened his mouth, but then hesitated and closed it again. Closing the distance between them, he enfolded Gwen in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"You're my queen," he said softly, holding her close. "And my friend. Whatever you decide I'll support, even if I disagree, even if I think it's a mistake. But you have to decide soon - this needs to be over."

"I know." It wouldn't be long before her son was born, and Gwen didn't want the pall of darkness that had hung over the last few months overshadowing that joy. "By morning, I promise."

Merlin exhaled with relief, pulling back and giving her a smile. "I just want us all to be safe."

"I know that too."

"When Cartigern came here," Merlin gestured to the bed. "Holding a sword to what he thought was your throat - if I hadn't been here instead, if he'd been able to take you…"

Gwen couldn't imagine what he'd gone through, hiding under the blankets as the minutes ticked by, waiting to foil a plot against her life. She knew exactly why he felt Cartigern must die, and perhaps in his position she'd feel the same.

"I just worry Merlin," she told him, reaching up to cup his cheek. "that even if Cartigern is gone, that there will be another threat for you to worry about, some other enemy, some other danger, and you'll never...rest."

Merlin ran a hand through his hair again, looking troubled. "I worry about that too," he admitted, then deflected with a half-laugh. "I'll go rest now, if you like."

He gave her a grin and made for the door, but Gwen wasn't fooled.

"You won't though will you?" she called after him. "You'll go patrol the halls with Ector instead of sleep."

Merlin spun around and gave an exaggerated shrug before leaving the room, and Gwen was alone once again with her thoughts. She paced the room aimlessly, desperately wishing Arthur was there to talk to, but of course if he was there, the decision wouldn't be hers at all.

He would not have hesitated - Arthur had been a compassionate ruler, but a strong one - or at least the kind of strength prized by kings of Camelot, prepared to deal death to an enemy as punishment, but also an example to others.

She understood the logic, even if she couldn't quite agree. Oh, she was no pacifist, but Gwen questioned whether the threat of execution truly deterred wrongdoing - given how many threats had been made against Arthur's life, she doubted it.

But who was she to challenge the customs of generations? In repealing the law against magic, she was simply undoing Uther's decree of less than thirty years earlier, and returning to the time before. Annis would say that she was being foolish, that while a consort could appeal for mercy, a ruling queen had no such luxury; a ruling queen must show strength even more than a king.

Mithian would no doubt agree - she had taken up the role of executioner on the battlefield, immediate and swift justice for Odin's crimes. Elena at least saw Gwen's perspective and had pledged to support her in any decision she made, but it was clear that even she thought Cartigern deserved to die.

Everyone it seemed was in agreement - her allies, her friends, her advisors. There was perhaps only one who would be grateful with Guinevere sparing Cartigern's life, and that was Nella, her sweet young friend whose life would never be the same. Was that what stayed her hand, that she could not bear to see the girl's sorrow?

Arthur had faced a similar dilemma, when Mordred had begged for him to spare the druid girl Kara's life. It had troubled him deeply, the affection he had for his loyal knight, weighed up against the life of a girl who had tried to kill him, and remained unrepentant. He didn't sleep the night before she was to die, seated at his desk plagued by doubts that were etched deep into his face.

"Arthur," Gwen murmured softly, approaching his chair. "You need to rest." She stroked his hair, the gold strands twining between her fingers, and he leaned into her with a sigh.

"Merlin thinks I should spare her," he said softly. "For Mordered's sake - and my own, to ensure that he is indebted to me rather than opposed."

"Perhaps he is right."

Gwen felt Arthur's jaw clench, and she trailed her fingertips down the side of his face, her soft touch prompting him to relax.

"But how can I ignore the law?"

Gwen cupped his chin and shifted so he could turn his face up to look at her. "I think justice should always be tempered with mercy."

A crease formed between his brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Mercy can sometimes be given too freely."

"And does she not warrant it?" Gwen questioned him. "She's just a girl - one who has lived her entire life in the shadows and on the run."

Arthur pulled away from her, exhaling harshly. "You are too good Guinevere." He rose from his chair and walked towards the window, looking out into the courtyard where the gallows had been erected. "Kara broke the law, and must face the consequences."

"Laws can be unjust too," Gwen said carefully, and watched his shoulders visibly tense as she knew they would. She was veering dangerously close to the line, and knew if she pushed him too far he would simply shut down, unwilling to listen any further. When he turned around his expression was stony.

"She tried to kill me," he said, his voice low and simmering with anger. "Was that a just act?"

"Of course not." Gwen held up her palms in a conciliatory motion. "But when she spoke in the chamber...she wasn't completely wrong. You say you have no quarrel with the Druids," she added quickly before he could interject. "And it's true you have not hunted them as your father did, but they are still in hiding nonetheless, for were they to use their magic even in some innocuous way they risk their very lives."

Arthur's jaw set. "I can't allow them to use magic, you know that. There is no way to identify the good sorcerers from the bad - the only way to keep my people safe from those with ill intent is to outlaw magic altogether."

Gwen bit her lip - she had never criticised Arthur's stance on magic before, even if in her heart she believed that many good people suffered because of the dark hearts of a select few. But her mind had been slowly working for some time, turning against the teachings of her entire life, questioning the logic of outlawing magic to protect the people of Camelot, when it had only created more enemies.

"If that were true," she said softly, "I would still be under Morgana's curse."

Arthur grimaced, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, his eyes cast down. "It's not the same."

"Magic was used against me," Gwen took a tentative step forward. "But it also saved me - you were willing to break the law then."

When Arthur lifted his gaze all his anger had dissipated, replaced by longing and sorrow. "I could not lose you Guinevere. I would have done anything."

"And Mordred loves this girl," she said, drawing closer to him. "What would he do for her?" She tentatively lay her hands on either side of his waist, and he cupped her face in his hand, thumb caressing her cheek. Then he closed the distance between them, drawing her into his embrace, burying his face in her hair and holding onto her as if he would never let go.

He had followed her advice in the end, but Kara had refused his olive branch and so he'd had no choice but to carry out the execution. Would Cartigern repent, if she gave him the same opportunity? And if he did, how could she know that it was not simply a feint, another false oath to keep himself alive so he could plot against her once more?

The situation with Kara had been different - her people had been oppressed by Camelot's kings, and for all Arthur's ambivalence to the druids - so long as they kept to themselves - magic had still been outlawed, Kara and her kin outcast from society unless they lived in secret, like Merlin and Mordred.

In contrast, Cartigern had sworn loyalty to Guinevere, had reaped the benefits of being cousin to a King. He had title, a prosperous estate and lands to sustain him and his family for generations to come. He was facing no persecution under Guinevere's rule, only what he saw as the indignity of being ruled by a woman of humble birth, with a sorcerer at her side.

She had no wish to see him dead, but did her people? Was Merlin right, would his death bring them a sense of comfort, or finality to the threat that had been so close to them all? Didn't she have a responsibility to them, that they would feel safe in the knowledge their queen had the power and strength to protect them from such threats? What did her personal qualms compare to that duty?

Start as you mean to continue, her father had always said. The worth of a sword was in the way the metal was heated in the forge - no amount of hammering would improve it if the cast had been wrong.

On the other hand, the running of a kingdom was not like the forging of a weapon - laws could be repealed, minds could be turned - change could come gradually. Cartigern stood in that way of that - Merlin was right, she could banish him to the ends of the earth and he would find a way to come back against her, to ignite dissent among those who still mistrusted and feared those with magic, who preferred the brutality of Uther's rule. She had to make a clean break, a signal to all of her people that while she was merciful, she would not forgive those who sought to destroy her.

Guinevere sighed and moved back to the table, taking her place again. The stew was now cold, but decided better late than never, picked up her spoon and began to eat.

Nella had explored most of the castle since she'd arrived in Camelot, but she'd never ventured near the dungeons. There had been no reason to - no sculptures, no tapestries, nothing at all of interest except barred doors and stone walls.

And her father. She'd lost her nerve half a dozen times on the walk down, even stopping once or twice, prompting Sir Ector to ask her repeatedly if she was sure she wanted to do this. She didn't, of course, but knew she had to or regret it for the rest of her life.

Still, the sight of the former Lord Cartigern on the floor of the cell, a shackle around his ankle, chaining him to the wall almost made her weep. Her father had always seemed robust and self-assured, so it was quite a shock to see him pale, with greying stubble, matted hair, and clothes covered in several days grime. He did not look happy to see her.

"Why did you bring her?" he addressed Ector.

"I wanted to see you," Nella stepped forward, but was careful to keep out of arm's reach as Ector had instructed her. "The Queen was gracious enough to allow it."

Ector snorted in derision. "She has sentenced me to death, and you call her gracious?"

Nella felt cowed by her father's words - she still loved him, but could never condone what he'd done.

"You committed treason," Ector spoke up. "There could be no other fate for you."

Nella bit her lip, knowing she should not speak, in fact had promised Ector that she would not broach the issue, but it was her last chance and she could not let it pass.

"There could be," she said, clasping her hands together as if in a plea for him to listen. "The Queen is kind, maybe if you talked to her, pledged your loyalty and begged for mercy-"

"Beg?" he spat out the word. "I, with the blood of kings in my veins, ask for mercy from a peasant wench? For what reason would I so debase myself?"

"For your life!" Nella exclaimed, moving closer. "For me, so I do not lose a father."

Ector lay a hand on her shoulder, and she obediently stepped back, brushing away the tears that had sprung to her eyes.

Elis stared at her, but there was no compassion, or even regret. "All children lose their fathers."

Nella took a shaky breath, searching his face for any sign of affection but found nothing but distaste. "Father…"

"Go to your beloved queen if you want some comfort," he practically spat at her. "You chose her, so you'll get nothing from me."

He turned away and Nella's heart broke; she ran from the room, the tears falling unhindered from her cheeks. The hallways above the dungeons were empty, and she found herself a wide pillar to hide behind, the stones cold against her back as she slid to the floor, unable to keep her weeping from echoing off the walls.

"Are you alright?" a soft voice asked, and Nella saw a pair of brown boots appear beside her. She lifted her gaze to their wearer; a redheaded boy about her own age in squire's livery.

"I'm fine," Nella said, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"You're Nella Cartigern aren't you?" he squatted down beside her, and she turned her face away, feeling it burn with shame.

"I don't want to be." The name was like poison to her now, the brand of a traitor, a father who had never loved her, and thought her only worth was as a pawn in his game. When he did not respond she turned her face back to his, and saw only sympathy in his gaze.

"I know how you feel," he said, and shifted so he sat beside her, leaning against the pillar. "I'm Kay, by the way."

Now she remembered him - her father had once pointed him out on the training field as the son of his friend Sir Ector. There had been a praise in his voice for the boy's skill and potential to be a great knight that he had never used when speaking of herself. Nella eyed Kay warily - had her father tried to recruit him for his treason, was the plot still underway and she was being sought to join the conspiracy?

"I didn't know my father almost turned against the Queen," he said, answering her unspoken thoughts. "I hate him for it."

Nella blinked, surprised at the hard edge to his voice. "But he didn't do it. He helped save her."

"But he thought about it," Kay said, scuffing the heel of his boot against the cobblestones. "He heard Cartigern speak treasonous words at the Samhain feast and said nothing - he only came forward at the last possible moment, and he's been rewarded for it!" Kay scoffed, shaking his head. "This could have all been avoided if he'd done something sooner."

Nella hadn't thought about it like that before, and couldn't quite agree. She'd been at the Queen's table, and even if the plot against her had been uncovered after Samhain, it was likely Odin and his allies would have still invaded.

"He did it because he wanted to protect you," Nella felt she needed to defend Ector, who had been so kind to her these past days.

"That makes it even worse," Kay pressed. "If he had betrayed Camelot for me, I never could have lived with it."

"At least you know he loves you." Nella felt the tears start again, and she forced them back. "All my father loves is power."

Kay looked at her with pity. "I'm sorry."

"But I don't hate him," she said, her voice hitching. "I love him - even now, even after everything he's done." She turned her face to Kay's. "Is that pathetic?"

"No." He put an arm around her. "I think it means you have a good heart."

Unable to hold back fresh tears Nella leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting them fall, thankful for that measure of comfort even if it was from a stranger.

The courtyard was crowded on the morning Cartiern was to die, people packed tightly together with shoulders touching, faces grim but triumphant. It was bitterly cold, and servants had spent several hours that morning shovelling snow from where it blanketed the cobblestones, but small flakes that fell from the sky threatened to cover them again by nightfall.

Merlin stood on the parapet next to Guinevere in her scarlet gown and queen's crown. She was flanked by Sir Leon and Princess Elena on her other side, a show of strength and support mirrored by the crowd, who jeered as Cartigern was led to the scaffold, pelted with rotten vegetables and spat at. He bore it with grace, head held high as if he was walking towards the throne instead of his death.

He faltered only at the top of the steps, when finally confronted with the hangman's noose, swinging lightly in the morning breeze. Merlin allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction; Cartigern had been arrogant to the end, expecting a swift death by sword that befitted his rank. But he was no longer a lord - he was a traitor, a thief, and like any common man would swing for it.

But he quickly regained his composure, turning to the balcony and pointing up at Guinevere with his bound hands.

"This woman has no right to pass judgement on me!" he called. "I am a Pendragon by blood and birthright - she is nothing but a Prince's doxy raised high, a sorcerer's pawn!"

The guard who had escorted Cartigern to the scaffold stepped forward, but Guinevere shook her head at him.

"Let him say what he will," she called down. "I would not deny any man the right to speak before he dies."

"These will not be my last words!" Cartigern spat back at her, and then turned to the crowd. "I, Elis Cartigern, grandson of Constantine Pendragon, claim the throne of Camelot. I call upon all good and loyal people to rise against this base usurper who has befoulded our great kingdom with sorcerers and druids, and will surely lead us to ruin! Rise up, good people! Rise!"

But the crowd was silent; the whistle of the north wind could be heard as no one answered his call. Even the nobles who might have once had sympathy with him, lined up on balconies or on the edge of the crowd in their finery, gave no support, their faces stony and grim. Cartigern looked shocked, and whether he had expected support based on some nefarious plan or had thought his words would rally the crowd, he once again had overplayed his hand.

The common people surrounding the scaffold began to jeer at him, and someone threw a rotten cabbage that hit him right in the face. His expression was something Merlin would treasure for the rest of his life.

Guinevere nodded to the hangman, and he grabbed Cartigern by the arm, drawing him into position and lowering the noose around his neck. Cartigern started to panic, trying to pull away but the hangman held him firm and pulled the noose tight. It was over in a matter of seconds - the trapdoor beneath Cartigern's feet dropped and he fell into the cavity, the unmistakable but no less sickening crunch of his neck snapping as the rope was pulled taut.

The crowd cheered, although there were a few murmurs of disappointment that it had been so quick and they'd been denied the joy of watching him wriggle like a fish on the line as he choked to death. Merlin was glad enough - there was no joy in an execution for him, but this time there was an undeniable sense of satisfaction.

"Goodbye, Lord Cardigan," he said to himself, enjoying that joke one final time. "Good riddance."

Elene heard him and stifled a snort behind one hand, and though Guinevere gave him a look of reprove, he could see that even she was relieved.

"It's done then," she said, her gaze turning back to the gallows where Cartigern's lifeless body swung. "Make sure he's given a proper burial," he directed Leon, who bowed and moved inside.

The crowds below began to disperse; the glee of a public hanging always dissipated once the deed was done. There was also a bitter chill in the air, the sky threaning snow once more and Merlin eyed the dark clouds warily. It would soon make the roads difficult to navigate, and so he knew he could not tarry.

"Can I speak to you?" he asked Gwen, and she turned back to him and smiled for the first time that day.

"Do you do anything else?" she teased, and Elena gave a light laugh. For once Merlin didn't join in, as he knew his next words wouldn't amuse her as much.

"I have to go," he said seriously

"Go?" Gwen's brows came together. "Go where?"

"North," he looked grimly up at the sky again. "Somewhere in Pictland I think. It's Kilgarrah - I can sense that...his time is near."

"This is the Great Dragon?" Elena queried, and Merlin nodded. Gwen folded her arms around herself, no doubt thinking of the time Kilgarrah had almost raised Camelot to the ground.

"I know he hasn't always been…" Merlin sighed. "But I promised I would be there."

"Can he not come here?" Gwen asked, but then waved her hand. "No I suppose not, if he is dying."

"Can you not use the dragonstones?" Elena asked, shooting a worried look at Gwen. Merlin shook his head - the stones only transported a shade of himself, it was not the same as being beside someone as they died. He knew Gwen would understand this without having to explain it to her.

"It may take weeks to travel to Pictland and back." Her hand strayed to her belly. "But if you must go…"

Merlin stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands, lifting her gaze to his. "Do you think I would miss the birth of your son for anything in the world? I promised I would be there for Kilgarrah, but I swear on my life, I will be back in time."

Gwen searched his face for a few moments and then smiled. "I believe you." He folded her into an embrace, holding her as tightly as he dared and kissing the top of her head.

"I suppose it's progress that you're not only letting me out of your sight," she said as she pulled away, the tease back in her voice. "But leaving the country."

Merlin chuckled. "Well I don't do anything by halves."

"Yes, I've noticed," Gwen said dryly, but took his hands and clasped it between both of hers and squeezed firmly. "Be careful, Merlin. And come back."