Third Person's Point of View

Morgause's corpse dropped with a sickening thud into the freshly dug grave, her sister standing morosely above. Her clear blue-green eyes were dry, and her slender hands were clenched into fists, blood dripping from the tips of her fingers.

Arthur watched in silence as she dropped to the ground, gingerly folding in on herself. Her red velvet dressed pooled around her and she began to laugh; a laugh that spoke of the sadness and anger that consumed her heart. The knights shifted awkwardly from their crouched positions in the bushes, curious and anxious as to why their king hadn't given the signal.

"I was so foolish, to believe that anyone could ever truly love me."

Her voice broke the silence and Arthur's breath caught in his throat, surprised at the vulnerability in her voice.

"How could anyone love a monster? I was so foolish to believe I was ever safe, ever cared for, my own father…" she grimaced at her words, still unwilling to even consider the king as the man who'd given her life. Gorlois was her father, forever and always. His memory of only short six years counted for more than Uther had as a father-figure for most of her life. All those years he had treated her as his ward, nothing more than a guest of Camelot, when she should have been treated as a daughter, and a Princess.

Perhaps he had seen the dark in her before anyone else. Perhaps he had known what a monumental disappointment she would become. Perhaps he had simply done what was best for his kingdom and protected them from her before she'd even been considered a threat.

"He couldn't even admit I was his mistake. I thought, I thought I could trust you. You were my sister, how could I not?" The forest around them was quiet, void of any and all creatures. She was alone, so very alone, as she always had been.

Her hands and knees stung horribly but she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, numbing herself as best she could. She focused on the rough blankets her sister's body was wrapped in, her thoughts having become a collective storm in her head, consuming her.

"You asked that I forgive you, but I don't think I can. I've spent my life here defending the people of Camelot from Uther, trying to protect them and you had me kill them. I would have been a good queen but you ruined that for me, with your lies and your manipulation." Her breathing had grown rough, and she pressed a hand to her chest, as though in pain. "I remember what you said to me, when you freed me from the cellar under Cenred's castle. You said that I am never alone. But I am, and what's worse is that it's because of you. You led me to believe I had no one but you at my side, when it wasn't true. I had Arthur and Gwen and the people of Camelot, and now, because of you... I truly do have no one."

She stood, gathering her skirts in her hand as she stumbled sideways. Her eyes turned gold. Through the haze of black spots dancing before her eyes she watched as the dirt spilled over her sister's body, ridding her of the burden that had become Morgause. "Goodbye sister."

As her magic dimmed and her eyes returned to their normal shade Arthur stood and walked slowly into her line of vision. The edges of his body were blurred and she smiled, forcing herself to stand straight. She would not appear weak before him.

"Brother." She murmured. Merlin appeared at his side and the knights circled around her, keeping a wary eye on the high priestess' grave. "I see you've brought company."

"I've come to return you to Camelot, where the king has commanded your presence."

Morgana nodded and held back a wince, the motion causing her head to spin. "I see."

Arthur approached slowly, taking in the blank look of her eyes and the matted state of her black hair; the hem of her dress was torn and the dark red of blood marred her pale skin. Merlin moved forward as well, noticing with a feeling akin to concern that she was shaking violently.

"What is it he wants from me? My head?" she simpered, her expression cold. She wanted nothing more than to cry into his embrace, to explain everything that had happened. To tell the truth and make it right with the only family she had ever known.

She knew though, with everything she had done to the people in Camelot she didn't deserve redemption; she deserved to be brought before the king and executed for what she had done. If she'd been stronger, she would have been able to fight against Morgause's control. But after the poisoning everything had happened so fast, so suddenly it had left her head spinning and there'd been no time to confront her sister.

All thoughts of the spell placed on Camelot and her part as the vessel had left her mind the moment she'd been thrown to the mandrake root, left to her tortured dreams. It didn't matter though, in one way or another it had been her fault; it had been her hand to come down that day and commanded the deaths of the citizens in the square and all the soldiers who had given their lives to fight against her.

"He wants to speak with you, as well as place judgment on your actions."

"Sounds reasonable." She managed. Her mind was reeling, the realization of her imminent death broaching on hysteria. "I don't, feel very well…" Morgana suddenly whispered, her vision coming to rest on Merlin.

He'd barely taken a step when she fell, his arms coming to catch her as she sunk towards the ground. Arthur knelt down beside them and lifted her hands, taking in the glass wedged into her bloodied palms.

"She's hurt." Merlin said dumbly, looking away from the piercing gaze Arthur shot at him.

"No really Merlin? I hadn't noticed what with her fainting and all." He thumped him on the back of the head and shifted Morgana into his arms, her head lolling to rest on his chest. "Tie her wrists." Arthur said, gesturing for Percival to come forward with the rope.

Merlin nodded, albeit reluctantly, and bound her wrists in front of her.

"Should we remove the glass?" he glanced up, surprised to see him looking somewhat concerned for her.

He shook his head, "No. Gaius will treat her, we don't have anything to bind the wounds here." Arthur nodded and strode towards his mount, keeping his sister held firmly in his arms.

"Sire, would you like one of us to take her?" he turned as Sir Leon strode forward, his gaze flicking towards Morgana.

"I can handle her myself." He said resolutely, gesturing for Merlin to help him.

As he took the lady back into his arms, allowing him a moment to swing himself into the saddle, Merlin looked at her face. Streaked with blood and somewhat bruised she was still beautiful. Though while it had once been a classic beauty it was now tragic, ruined by her betrayal. His thoughts quickly drifted though, from her beauty to the things she had spat at her sister's corpse.

He had to wonder what she'd meant when she'd spoken in the clearing. Her words were full of anger and hate, and surprisingly it had all been directed towards Morgause.

"Merlin." He was startled out of his musings, and looked up to see Arthur staring down at him expectantly.

"Right." He helped him sit Morgana up on his horse, Storm, her body limp.

Arthur placed an arm around her waist and took the reins in hand, nudging forward as Merlin hurried to catch up. The knights mounted as well and rode ahead, scouting their journey back. Merlin nudged the gelding he rode into a brisk trot as he reached his friend's side.

Morgana's eyes were closed, her expression peaceful as she slept in Arthur's arms. She was so different than the hostile witch he'd been confronted with, seeming more hopeless and trodden down than he had ever seen her before. The smirks and the glares were gone, and though it was only for a moment the feeling of hope bloomed in his chest.

"What are you going to do with her?" his voice was quiet, solemn, as he tore his gaze from Morgana to look at Arthur. He took a breath, his jaw clenched as he steered around a fallen log.

"I don't know. I'll have to bring her to Gaius first, and if she's well enough I'll bring her to father. Then…" he trailed off, abruptly glancing down at her. "I'll consult with him on her punishment afterwards."

"Where will you keep her?"

"The dungeons?" he phrased it more as a question.

"Are you asking me? Your grace, I'm flattered that you'd look to me for guidance." Merlin joked.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

He glanced down at Morgana, suddenly reminded of the day he'd found her in the woods. When she'd been ambushed during her pilgrimage to her father's grave, and Guinevere had been captured in her stead. He'd barely taken the time to ensure her safety, so eager to begin his search for Guinevere.

Arthur tended to pride himself on his loyalty, especially now in the face of such upsetting betrayal. But he couldn't help but feel as if it had been partially his own fault. As soon as his infatuation with Gwen had arisen, he was ashamed to admit, he'd spurned most attention from Morgana.

He'd been with her practically his whole life; it was hard to imagine it without her in it. Now? He was forced to come to the realization that he would most likely be living in a world where she didn't exist at all, and that thought hit him with such stunning devastation that he found himself growing saddened.

What was a life without his sister? He shuddered to think he'd have no choice but to find out.