-28-

Ryll didn't sleep much at all that night. Lancelot didn't either. She could hear him shifting across the room from her and halfway through the night he got up to stoke the fire. The air was getting colder each night as winter pressed in on them. Snow would be arriving soon, and they'd have to find inventive ways of keeping out the cold. The cottage was drafty at best and the small lean-to Owl was stabled in wasn't much better. Ryll pondered this as she tried to fall asleep. Maybe Owl could stay in the cottage. They could lay some hay down in front of the fire. She had to smile at this. The cottage wouldn't fit two people and a horse. She and Owl had survived many winters before. They'd both be fine. It just felt strange to actually be worrying about battening down a house for the season. The last time she'd had to worry about that was when her parents were still alive.

After their deaths, Ryll had wandered around until a band of thieves had taken her in. It was either them or the streets, and Ryll didn't understand what they did back then. She was only seven when her parents had died. The bandits taught her the skills of the street – pickpocketing and causing distractions so that they could pickpocket. They taught her how to handle a blade and shoot a bow. By the time she turned ten, she was stealing food and valuables like a natural. It was a way of surviving. She had to survive. She hadn't really questioned the morals of what she was doing. The thieves had been like her, people who didn't have anywhere else to go who didn't have families or money to their name. Ryll didn't even know her last name. Amaryllis was all she remembered. And the ring her mother had given her. She wore it always as a reminder of her family.

It was shortly after she had turned fourteen that Ryll's life took another sharp turn. They had raided a castle – a desolate place on the border between Mercia and Camelot. This was going to be the job that made them, that gave them wealth for the rest of their lives. They spent weeks scouting the castle and when the leader left on a hunting trip, they'd taken their chance. She'd been the lookout. Halfway through the raid, the residents of the castle had come back. It had been a trap, it seemed, to lure them into the castle and strike them down. She'd hurried to warn her friends, but they had tried to take too much with them. They'd been captured her band, but she had managed to escape. She had hidden, watching from within an old wardrobe as her two companions were murdered in cold blood. She had waited, huddled in the wardrobe, for nearly an hour until she knew it was safe to come out. She'd slipped out of the castle only to be captured by one of the henchmen who had killed her friends. She'd struggled, but he had been too strong for her. He'd brought her to his leader who was impressed by her skill. He'd offered her a deal – her life in exchange for a place in his band. She would be his personal thief; able to get into places he couldn't, able to use her young age and innocent appearance as a distraction.

The next two years of her life were her blackest. In his company, she was made into someone she would never let herself become again. He trained her how to kill, and in time, she became more than just a thief. She became his personal assassin for two years until she hated herself so much she couldn't stand to look in a mirror. She knew she needed to get away. Knew there was something more out there. She planned her escape and, one winter evening, she stole away on one of his horses, fleeing into the wilderness to fend for herself. She'd forgotten a lot of her past – blackened it out from her mind, but she would never forget those months during the deepest pit of winter when she struggled to survive.

She nearly died that winter, starving and cold with no hope for redemption. But she survived. She pulled herself together, taught herself new skills, pushed aside the memories that still haunted her dreams. She learned to black out the memories she didn't want to remember. They'd come back to her over time, they hadn't ever left her, but now she could handle them. She had become a better person. She promised never to let herself become that girl again.

Coming to Camelot had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. It was the first time she'd felt loved since her parents had been alive, the first time she hadn't been cold or hungry or lonely in so many years. She hadn't told anyone all of this. She'd kept it locked away just like the memories of her parents' deaths and the wraith. Part of letting go was forgiving yourself for your mistakes. That's what Ryll was doing. If she had to let go of the one good thing in her life, she needed to let go of the bad memories that had pulled her down for so much of her life.

She'd been afraid as well. Afraid that Merlin and Arthur and even Morgana would turn her away if she told them she'd been raised a common thief for the better part of her life. She knew that wouldn't matter to them – she wasn't that same girl. She'd had a tough life, and she'd done what she had to in order to survive. She felt the sudden urge to tell someone. She needed to hear the acceptance, the forgiveness. She needed to know that someone could hear about her past and not despise her.

"Lancelot?" she said softly, so as not to wake him if he really was asleep.

"Hmm?" he answered sleepily.

"Can I tell you something about my past that I've never told anyone before?" she asked, turning over so that she could see his face.

He raised himself up on his elbow, his eyes keen in the dim light of the cottage. The fire was reflected in them. "Of course. If it's me you want to tell." He seemed to think the honor should go to someone else.

"Well, we are living together now. I suppose it's a good time to get all the skeletons out of my closet."

"I hope we're speaking figuratively." She knew he was joking, but he didn't yet realize that she did have some literal skeletons in her closet. More than she was willing to admit. She'd killed that man tonight without blinking, without thinking. That's what had brought these memories back. She still had the instincts of an assassin. She hadn't been lying when she'd told Lancelot that she'd almost lost her humanity. She'd seen a flicker of the old her tonight when she'd killed that man. She still didn't feel remorse at his death, only remorse that she didn't feel something.

"Not entirely," she replied. "You have every right to judge me," she added though she knew he was far too chivalrous for that. She took a deep breath. "It all started after my parents died…"

The story took awhile to tell. She found herself recalling little details she hadn't remembered in years. She took a few deep breaths in between, trying not to let her story overwhelm her. When she had finished, she found that she couldn't look Lancelot in the eye. She feared he'd shun her now that he knew what she had done.

"If you're expecting me to turn you out in the cold, you're going to be waiting a long time. You did what you had to. You were a child when your parents died. You didn't know what to do. It wasn't fair that you had to grow up without a proper family or proper guidance, but I know your heart has always been in the right place."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Look at you now. You're one of the most selfless people I know. Look at all you did in Camelot. You saved Morgana and Arthur's lives. You saved the people of Camelot."

"You always make me out to be some sort of hero. I'm just a girl with ambitions over her head."

"You're a dreamer. There's nothing wrong with that. Especially when your life has been so difficult."

"You haven't had it too easy too." Lancelot had mentioned that his family had been murdered by bandits when he was young and that only he had gotten away. "We've had similar childhoods, really."

He nodded. "We do have a lot in common. I believe it was fate that brought us together."

"I do have more skeletons in my closet."

"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean I'm kicking you out." He smiled. "We all make mistakes, Ryll. Yours were made when you were too young to understand consequences and morals. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I do, I really do, but I'll try not to be ashamed."

"What matters is who you are now. People change. It's the circumstances of our lives that effect us, but we always have the power to overcome them just as you did."

Ryll liked the sound of that. "I do like who I am better now. I learned to separate myself from my past. It's never good to dwell in the past – never forget it, but don't live in it. You're not really living if you do."

"Wise words."

"I'm going to stop doing that – living in the past. I want to live for every day. I've been mourning my exile from Camelot all this time, mourning the friends I lost, but I realize now, they'll always be there. Camelot will always be there. If I can't go back just yet, I can't live every day with that thought. I have no doubt that we will both return to Camelot one day when Arthur is king. It might be a long time from now, but it will still happen. I have to stop waiting for that and trust that it will happen in time. Tomorrow, after I say goodbye to my friends, I'm going to trust that I will see them again instead of fearing that I won't. Uther never forbade us from seeing each other. I just can't set foot in Camelot."

"To his knowledge."

Ryll smiled at this. "Good point." She shook her head. "I shouldn't tempt fate, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"I have a feeling there's a lot that he doesn't know. In my time there, I could see that Merlin, Arthur, and Morgana have forged their own lives based on their beliefs. Uther has a lot of hold over Arthur still – as he should being both his king and his father – but I could see Arthur begin to question him, begin to find his own beliefs."

"I saw a little of that too. His heart is in the right place. He just needs to learn to think for himself. I suppose I didn't grow up with a father to look up to. I always thought for myself and was encouraged to. I can't really understand what he goes through when Uther commands something he doesn't agree with and he still goes with it."

"As prince he as more responsibility than you or I could ever know."

"That's true as well. It can't be just about what he thinks and feels, it has to be about what the people think and feel as well and what's best for Camelot. That's why I'd never make a good queen. I'd want to help everyone and that doesn't always work."

They fell silent as they contemplated this and Ryll realized after a moment that Lancelot had fallen asleep. She curled up in a tighter ball under her blankets and found herself drifting off as well, feeling much lighter than she had in a long time.

…

Despite the promise that they would see each other again, saying goodbye the next morning was still a sad affair. Morgana cried when Ryll hugged her, telling her that Camelot was nearly unbearable without her company. Arthur promised again that he'd pardon her when he became king and gave Ryll permission to meet Morgana halfway between Camelot and Meldoran every few months to stay in touch as long as they did it in secret. Then it came to Merlin. Lancelot was speaking to Arthur and Morgana a few steps away, but Ryll tried to keep her composure even still as she turned to Merlin.

"This isn't goodbye," she said.

"I know. That doesn't make it any easier."

"I know."

"I'll come with Morgana to visit if you'd like," he said.

"I would like that. Keep an eye on her, Merlin, I've told you how much I worry. If Uther continues to push her away, I'm afraid she's going to strike out. I know Uther loves her, but if she continues to push his limitations…"

"I'll watch out for her."

"Goodbye." There was nothing more she could say. At least for now.

"Goodbye, Ryll." He pulled her into a hug, holding her a fraction of a second longer than just a friendly hug before pulling away. "Good luck with your life here," he said. "I really do hope that you find happiness. You deserve to have a normal life."

"Who said anything about wanting a normal life?" She grinned to show she was joking. "I've already had enough adventure for one lifetime," she said.

"At least until you return to Camelot."

"Right. Then I'll be back to slaying beasts."

"Ready, Merlin?" Arthur asked. Their saddled horses stood nearby. Their prisoner was tied to another horse – probably his – that they had found wandering around. He was glaring at Ryll with unconcealed hatred.

"Ready."

Ryll waved as they rode off into the distance. Lancelot stood at her side, watching her with a concerned expression. "I'll be alright," she said, turning to him when her friends had disappeared from sight. "This is the start of our new lives, so let's make it a good life."