A man named Lancelot delivers the letter, introducing himself as Merlin's friend. Even upon first glance Hunith knows a story is there to hear, but when offered a place to rest he declines politely and tells her he must be on his way.

Faced with her son's missive after so long of nothing she can hardly finish sowing all her seeds in the yard. By the time she is done night has nearly fallen. She cleans herself up, lights her candles, gets a fire going in her tiny fireplace and sits on her bed to read before attempting a dinner.

The twine comes undone easily under her fingers.

Dear Mother,

I should be home to tell you this, but things here are hectic with the reparations and Arthur will not let me go. Word might have already carried to you about the dragon's attack on the Citadel. Everyone's lending a hand to put things to rights.

Let me get to the point. I met my father, I have met Balinor and he has passed on his powers to me.

When the dragon attacked and gave Uther no choice but to look for a Dragonlord, Gaius was forced to tell me everything. How he smuggled Father out of Camelot, how you gave him a place to stay.

Arthur and I travelled to find him through Cenred's kingdom. I can't imagine what father's life must have been like, moving constantly from place to place. He told me himself he was hunted by Uther like an animal after Uther betrayed him and killed all his kind but Father still helped Arthur, Uther's son when he was injured. Later he decided to help Camelot as well. He was a kind and noble man even to his end, Mother. I'm glad to have known him even for such a short time as I did.

He still loved you, I could see it in his eyes when he talked of you. He told me he never returned to you for fear of your safety, he thought your life would be better without him. He told me he sees you in me, Mother, your kindness. Do you see him in me too?

We camped that night in Cendred's territory and we were attacked by his men. Father took a sword for me. He died protecting me. All my magic and I couldn't save him. I'm sorry.

I dreamt of him again last night, telling me to let him go. Mother, how am I to let him go when I have just found him. He whittled me a small dragon out of wood. Is the charm of the necklace that you always wear done by him too?

I know you did not tell me of him for fear of my safety. I'm not angry at you, not anymore. But I wish, Mother, I wish things could have been different. I wish for so many things...

Even in our haste to return to Camelot I marked him a grave. When things calm down here, I will ask for Arthur's leave to see you for a few days. Perhaps we could visit Father's resting place. Perhaps you could tell me more about him?

Your son,

Merlin.

When a fortnight later Merlin comes back home, bags under his eyes, cheeks sunken more than usual, Hunith drops all that she's doing to envelop him in her arms.

"Oh, my son," she says, letting him duck his head into the crook of her neck. "My son."

"I'm sorry."

She can barely make out his words muffled as they are, but the lump in her throat grows twice in size. Hunith smooths a palm down the back of her son's head. She prompts his head up, slanting her head to meet his avoidant eyes.

"Don't apologise. The blame for his death does not lie with you. He would tell you the same if he were here."

Hunith takes Merlin's hands, cold from being out for long and squeezes them tightly in both of hers.

She knows Merlin doesn't believe her and with the way his eyes look she fears no matter what she says there will always be a part of him that will blame himself.