There just wasn't enough time.

The sentries had come tearing through the gates, crashing past the incomplete temple, their horses foaming and bucking wildly at the reins as their riders dismounted.

"News?" Arthur asked, knowing the worst had come.

"Nimueh marches," one of the knights said, and several passerby stopped, their eyes wide. Arthur ushered the man inside. Merlin and several of the other knights rose to their feet from where they'd been sitting at the Round Table. "It was just... a wave of black, riding over the hill for miles."

"And the dragon?"

"Flying overhead," the sentry finished quietly. "It's massive."

"But I thought that your... goddess was going to stop the attack." One of the younger knights looked at Merlin accusingly.

"The temple's not finished. No sacrifices have been made." Merlin closed his eyes. "She has no reason stop the army yet."

"How fast were they moving?" Arthur sounded distant.

"Fast." The knight shook his head. "I estimate they'll be here by nightfall."

Silence fell.

"I'll talk to the builders. They're almost done. There's a chance," Merlin spoke earnestly, but Arthur guessed it was for everyone else's benefit. He doubted the sorcerer believed it.

"Get the troops armed. I want a final perimeter sweep, and a recount of our weapons and our rations." Arthur took a deep breath and stood as Merlin walked outside. He headed for his own chambers, gesturing for George to follow, but Gwen shook her head.

"I can do it," she said, her lips in a smile but her eyes grim.

She dressed him in silence, pausing and running her fingers over the polished metal of his chestplate, still laying on the bedspread.

"Gwen..."

"We have a chance. Merlin said so." She sounded cheerful but she wouldn't meet his gaze and Arthur caught her chin gently. Her eyes were the color of summer afternoons, he thought. Dark and fiery but warm, too, and even though they were filled with tears he had never seen anything more beautiful.

"My queen," he said, and she tried to turn away but now he grasped her face in both hands. It seemed to Gwen that he was drinking her up, like he was trying to preserve that very moment forever. "I love you."

"Stop it," she pleaded, forcing down a sob as she saw his expression. He was looking through her now, like a man on the gallows looking out over the crowd. She had lost him before the battle even begun. "Arthur, stop it. Stop it now. Stop. Stop." She beat on his chest, without strength, and he pulled her tightly to his chest.

"Gwen, tell me you love me," he said softly, his voice muffled in her hair. She hesitated. She wanted so badly to refuse, because then maybe he wouldn't fight, maybe he wouldn't leave until he heard the words..

"I love you," she said.

The Druids working on the temple were working faster now. They might actually finish the temple by nightfall, not that it mattered anyway. It would be too late. Merlin knew it even before leaving the Round Table, and Arthur knew it, too. So Merlin visited the temple, and then returned to his chambers, and for the first time in a very long time, he shut the door behind him.

A shaft of light, crisp and yellow with the cheery midmorning sun, illuminated swaths of dustmotes drifting lazily through the air. The room was much as Gaius left it. There were a few new books, and stacks of notes, but otherwise Merlin had left the physician's things untouched. His ghost seemed to fill every corner of the room, every crevice, and it felt as if he was just out of sight, maybe reading in his bed or fishing for a bottle in a low cupboard. Maybe he was waiting for Merlin to say goodbye, except that Merlin already had, at the funeral. And yet, there was a goodbye to be said.

He sat down at the cluttered table and began to write.

To my mother

I hope you're doing well. I've missed you more than I can say. A lot has happened since I saw you last, and I owe you so much more than a letter. You deserve more than a letter. But I've waited too long, and it's too late.

Things happened. I got sick, in a way. Gaius died. And magic has returned to Camelot. But Nimueh is returning too, and I'm afraid. I am not a fighter, but my fate has always been to serve Arthur and the future of Albion. And that is what I'm doing, and that is why you're receiving this letter. Because I did what I had to do.

I'm sorry.

Merlin stopped, realizing his quill was trembling in his hands, leaving inky drops on the parchment. He read over what he had written and in a sudden motion he crumbled it up, throwing it across the room. It was not enough.

I've waited too long, and it's too late.