Author's note: I've made a pretty cover for my story! I made an inspiration board awhile back, and had this really clear idea of how I wanted Amaryllis to look. So there she is! I had to hone my photoshop skills a bit - it's been awhile. Anyway, I've been working really hard on researching and coming up with ways to tie the plot in with the plot of season 2, so here we go! Enjoy!

-31-

Ryll stood by her parents' graves for a long while. She didn't want to leave because it felt too much like she was abandoning them. Finally, as the sun sunk low enough to wash the horizon in red, Lancelot put a hand on her shoulder.

"It will be dark soon," he told her. "We should find shelter somewhere."

Ryll nodded wordlessly. "We can stay in the next village over," she said finally. "They were always friendly."

"I'll let you say goodbye." He moved off to attend the horses while Ryll stood like a statue, staring down at the twin headstones. She had been carrying her father's sword at her side for the duration of the journey, but now she drew it, taking one last look at the blade before sinking it into the dirt between the two graves.

"I'm going to do everything in my power to make you proud," she said. "I'm going to become a knight of Camelot and save people. No one will ever die again if I can help it."

She stood, brushing the dirt off her knees. In the drab, colorless graveyard, the sword shone brightly, reflecting the reds and oranges of the sunset. She took one last look at the graves before turning and rejoining Lancelot. They mounted their horses in silence, and Ryll took the lead as they headed toward the village. Ryll felt a sense of freedom as she rode away from the place she had once called home. She'd always been afraid of saying goodbye because she'd never really gotten the chance before. This time she felt like she could move on – in the right direction this time.

They reached the village as the sun faded from the sky and the moon rose to take its place. They found a small inn to check into, renting out a room with two beds for the night. Ryll went to sleep without saying a word. She had been silent since they had left the graveyard. In truth, all Ryll wanted to do was curl up at home – wherever that may be – and have a good cry. She wanted her mother to stroke her hair and her father to read her a story. He used to tell her stories about the knights of Camelot. She hadn't remembered until now, but now as she tried to think back to her early childhood, she did remember. There were things she'd long ago forgotten. She remembered a room where the sun always shone in through the windows. This wasn't her home in Hithar though. She focused in on the memory. She could see her mother, sitting in a chair next to glass doors that led outside. She could hear birds singing. Her father walked into the room. He walked with a distinct limp. Her memory skipped to another place. She was in a room with a large wardrobe. She reached a tiny hand up to grasp the knob and pull. Out spilled the trail of a long, red cloak. A beautiful sword and shield were also stored there. A golden dragon was painted on the shield.

Ryll's eyes snapped open. If what she was remembering was correct, then her father had once been a knight of Camelot. She sat up, breathing hard. Her father had been a knight. That's why he had limped – he'd been injured in a battle. That's why she had grown up outside of the castle. If he had still been a knight when she was born, she would have grown up in the castle alongside Arthur. It was as if everything were suddenly clear. This was why she had always wanted to be a knight. Her father had been one, and she was meant to be one. Who cared that she was a girl? This was her destiny, and she was going to make sure it happened.

She lay back down, her mind suddenly clear. The only thing holding her back now was Uther. He wouldn't allow her back in Camelot let alone make her a knight. She might be of noble blood, but he didn't trust her enough to knight her. She wanted Arthur to be king so badly, but that would mean Uther dying most likely. She wouldn't wish that upon him no matter what he'd done to her or anyone else. He was a cruel king, yes, but he was also Arthur's father. She would never wish death to anyone with a family. Her thoughts skipped to the man she had killed in Meldoran. Did he have a family? She'd let anger overtake her in that moment, something a knight should never do. She had a lot of training to do before she was ready to become a knight. She might have the weapons down, but she had a lot of work to do when it came to patience and judgment.

She fell asleep daydreaming about becoming a knight. She could picture herself astride Owl, red cloak draped over her shoulders, sword gleaming at her side. That night she dreamt of her mother and for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of safety wash over her. Then her dreams changed, darkening suddenly. She was in the room with her mother – the room with the sunshine and the glass doors. She was playing with a wooden figure, a knight she now saw. She had a stuffed horse as well.

There was a clattering downstairs – something fell, shattering in the front hall. There was a shout and then silence. Ryll's mother looked up from the fabric she was cross-stitching. Her beautiful blue eyes narrowed with worry. She had long, golden hair that reached her waist. Ryll looked like a doll version of her mother.

"Amaryllis, why don't you take your doll into your room," she told her, setting aside her stitching.

Ryll nodded, taking both the knight and stuffed horse into the adjoining room. She sat down on her bed and continued to play, unaware that anything was happening. Then she heard her father enter the sitting room, speaking quickly to her mother. There were more shouts from downstairs. Then her parents entered her room.

"Amaryllis, honey, can you take my hand? We're going to go outside," her mother said, taking Ryll's small hand.

"I'll catch up to you," her father said.

"No, Thom, it's too dangerous!" her mother said, her eyes widening.

"I have to. They'll kill the servants."

"Be careful." Ryll watched as her father limped from the room. Her mother's eyes were filled with tears.

"Where is Papa going?" Ryll asked.

"He's just going to be a hero, honey, come on." She pulled Ryll toward one of the walls in her room. She pulled aside a panel and pulled a lever. The wall opened up into a secret passageway. Ryll's mother led her forward into the passage, shutting it behind her.

"Where are we, Mama?" Ryll asked.

"Think of this as a game," her mother told her. "We're going on a little adventure. Remember Papa's stories about hunting for treasure? We're going to see what we can find along this tunnel."

"That sounds like fun!" Ryll said, jumping a little.

She didn't realize how worried her mother was as they traveled down the passage. She kept glancing back, delicate brow furrowed. Ryll just walked on, looking around for any hidden trinkets. Finally they came to a set of wooden stairs. Her mother glanced back. "We're going to go up now," she said. She climbed up ahead of Ryll and pushed open a trapdoor. She looked around before urging Ryll to follow her.

"Look, Mama, it led us to the barn," she said, looking around. They were in the back of the barn where they stored the bales of hay for the horses. The trap door was nearly invisible when the straw was scattered atop it.

"Yes, we're going to get the cart ready," her mother told her, gathering the harnesses for the horses. She quickly harnessed two of their draft horses to the cart. "Wait there, alright, Ryll? Can you stay right there in the cart?"

"Yes, Mama." Ryll's mother lifted her into the cart before slipping out of the barn. She was gone a long time, and Ryll contented herself with talking to the horses. They flicked their ears back in acknowledgement and occasionally weighted in their opinions with a nicker. Finally, she heard the door open and her father and mother entered. There was something red on her father's shirt, but she didn't get a chance to see what it was. They jumped into the carriage and urged the horses out of the barn.

"Keep your eyes closed and stay down," her mother told her. Ryll shut her eyes, crouching down in the bottom of the cart. Her father kept the horses at a gallop. She heard shouts and a scream but it was all drowned out by the pounding of the horses' hooves and the jostling of the cart. Once Ryll lifted her head up, peering over the back of the cart. Their house was in flames. A group of men were smashing windows and shouting. Ryll shut her eyes again, wishing she hadn't looked.

When she opened her eyes again, she was waking up in the present. She sat up, looking around, surprised to find that it was morning. It was as if a doorway had suddenly opened and she could remember her past. Lancelot stirred across from her, and she waited until he sat up and stretched before telling him all the details of her dream and her memories. He listened quietly until she had finished.

"Then your father was a knight of Camelot."

"It seems that way. It was like remembering someone else's life, but it was all mine. I was so happy once. Do you remember your family at all?"

"A little. I remember bits and pieces of my childhood. I remember the night they died."

"That night stands out the most in my memory too. You can't forget something like that," Ryll said sympathetically.

"At least I didn't watch them die. That's something I can't even imagine."

"I could have died that night too, but I didn't. I have to look at it like that. I have a chance to live my own life, and I can't just keep reliving that moment."

"You're stronger than you know, Ryll. The way you move on from things."

"I've had some rough patches," Ryll admitted. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that the past is in the past and it's not worth worrying about in the present."

"What do you want to do now?" Lancelot asked her. "We could stay here a few days, if you'd like."

"No," she said resolutely. "I want to go back to Meldoran. I want to go home."

…

The journey to Meldoran seemed to take less time now that Merlin knew where he was headed. Every day took him closer to Ryll, closer to delivering her freedom. He wasn't sure if she would come back with him to be honest. Before Lancelot had come into her life, he knew she'd drop everything and come back, but now… She'd forged a new life for herself in Meldoran. She'd moved on from her past and accepted her exile – at least until Arthur became king and pardoned her. But now Uther had pardoned her, and her dream of coming back to Camelot was upon her. This was what she had wanted all along, but now that it came down to leaving her new life, would she do it?

She wanted somewhere to belong. When he looked at her life and what he knew of her past, he could see a pattern of losing home after home and all the people she cared about. She would probably be afraid to come back – afraid of being forced to leave again. He would make sure that never happened though.

As the fifth day of his journey began, he found himself drawing near to Meldoran. By the time the sun began to set, he could see the outline of the village. Something was wrong though. At the edge of town, flames were rising, licking the sky greedily. People were running around, shouting out to each other. They'd started a bucket brigade trailing down the road. Ryll's home was on fire.

…

As Ryll and Lancelot traveled back from Hithar, Ryll felt herself letting go. It was as if she had finally confronted her worst nightmare. She felt stronger. "The crops should be coming up in a month or two," she quipped. "We can harvest them and then sell what we don't need. I'm thinking about volunteering to teach self-defense to the women of the village. It's so important, but none of them have handled a knife more than just to cut up vegetables. Merlin told me that his hometown of Ealdor was once under attack from bandits, and he, Arthur, Morgana, and Gwen went there and helped the people band together to fight them off."

"That's a good idea." Lancelot smiled at her enthusiasm.

As they rode into Meldoran the following evening, Ryll saw Anna waiting outside the inn. She waved to her friend, noticing the worried expression on her face. "Ryll, someone was here inquiring after you," she said when Ryll was level with her. "He…he was insistent that he needed to speak with you. I told him where you lived – I'm sorry, I shouldn't have – but he said you knew him."

"It's alright. Did you get his name?" Ryll wondered if it was Merlin. But he wouldn't have needed to know which cottage was hers.

"No, I'm sorry Ryll."

"It's fine. We're headed home right now. It's good to see you." They rode off, Ryll frowning at the frightened expression on Anna's face. "You don't suppose this man threatened her, do you?" she asked Lancelot. "She looks terrified."

"I guess we'll find out. If he did, he'll have us to answer to."

They put their horses in the stable, feeding and watering them before entering the house. A man was waiting for them. He stood as they entered, turning to face them. Ryll gasped. "You!" It was as if she was in a nightmare. This couldn't be. She had just said goodbye to her past, and yet here he was.

"Amaryllis. It's been too long," he said.

"Who is this?" Lancelot asked in a low voice.

"Hengist. He's the one who caught me in his castle – the one who had my friends murdered."

"My little assassin. It took me nearly three years to track you."

"I cover my tracks well," Ryll said cautiously. "Why are you here?"

"What, no formal 'hellos'?" Ryll just glared at him. "I'm here because you took something of mine. I don't take kindly to thieves, but you knew that already."

"I took a horse to escape. That's all. And you're not taking her back."

"Oh, I don't want that horse back. I want you back. I've missed your company." He grinned at her. He hadn't gotten any more appealing over the years. He was balding and dirty, his teeth broken in several places.

"She's not going anywhere," Lancelot said, drawing his sword.

"Look, Hengist, I'm not sorry I ran away from you. That was three years ago. Why would any of this matter now?"

"It always matters. You stole from me, you left my services before you were allowed. My pretty little assassin was told to remain at my side at all times."

"I'm not you're little assassin. I left that life behind me a long time ago."

"I don't forget favors owed to me, girl."

"Try to take me." Ryll drew her sword. "It's two against one."

"You think I came alone?" Hengist asked. "Think again." Ryll whirled around in time to see four men surrounding the front of the house. She recognized the one who had caught her all those years ago when she had first tried to escape. He smiled wickedly at her.

"We can take you and all of your men!" Ryll spat. "I'll give you once chance to get out of my house."

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Fine. Tell your men that they're more than welcome to try to take me." Ryll swung her sword up. "But they're going to have to stop me from shoving my sword in your heart." She leapt forward, sword aimed straight at the bandit's heart. Before she could strike, something pierced her right arm. She cried out in pain, dropping her sword. One of Hengist's men had shot her with an arrow. Lancelot had instantly gone to her defense, but she watched in fear as he fought the four men. He was overpowered after a moment, though not before he had first taken down two of the men and injured the third. Ryll swept up her sword in her left hand, striking at Hengist who leapt out of the way just in time. The fourth bandit outside had managed to disarm Lancelot, but that didn't stop Lancelot from fighting him off.

Ryll felt the same resolve. She drew her sword up again and swung it at Hengist who drew his own sword, blocking the blow. Ryll was clumsy fighting with her left hand though. Her right arm was throbbing painfully, and she felt herself getting lightheaded. Hengist finally knocked her sword aside, bringing her down to her knees. Then he leaned down and looked her in the eye. "Looks like you'll be coming with me after all."

Ryll glared up at him. She might be disarmed, but she was far from giving up the fight. She reached over and pulled the arrow from her arm, grimacing from the pain. She dropped it on the ground before Hengist. The blood began to flow down her arm.

"I will never come back with you. I refuse to be your little puppet again."

"Oh, you won't be my puppet. You'll be locked away in my dungeons unless I need you for something. You'll be a pretty little trophy. Camelot's champion."

"Word travels far."

"I knew when I heard about a girl entering into the tournament and almost winning that it had to be you. No one else would be that bold or so skilled or so stupid. I've been tracking you for months now."

"Did you get bored watching cage fights?" Ryll asked.

"That can only entertain a man for so long. But you, you fascinate me." Ryll tried to keep her face passive, but inside she was cringing. "That hair the color of honey, those eyes…blue with just a hint of gold. So beautiful and yet so damaged."

"I am not damaged. Not anymore," Ryll spat at him. "You know nothing about who I am."

"You think you can live some normal life? Think again." He made a grab for her, but she rolled out of the way, wincing at the pain in her arm. Something heavy came down on her injured arm and she cried out in pain. Hengist had stomped his foot down on it, pinning her arm to the ground. Her vision went red at the pain. As soon as he lifted his foot, he dragged her to her feet, holding one arm across her while the other hand held a knife to her throat. She saw that Lancelot was back on his feet, fighting for his life.

"Stop or she dies," Hengist said. Lancelot stopped fighting abruptly. The bandit he had been fighting took the advantage and tackled him to the ground, knocking him unconscious. Ryll cried out again.

"Come quietly or he'll be dead," Hengist whispered into her ear, pressing the knife against her skin hard enough to draw blood.

"Alright." Ryll wanted to keep fighting, but the bandit's knife was still at her neck, and his lackey held his sword above Lancelot's prone body.

"You're going to get on your horse and come with me. Speak to no one." He withdrew the knife and pushed her forward, leaning down to pick up her sword. "What a nice sword. I think I'll keep this for myself." Ryll pushed down a wave of disgust and resentment. "You see, Amaryllis, the past always catches up to you no matter how far you run."

He pushed her outside, ordering his lackey to get their horses and tie Lancelot astride one. Ryll waited until Owl was pulled out of the stable, eyes rolling with fear. Hengist pushed her toward the horse. "Get on. Don't try anything." She mounted wordlessly and he tied her hands to the pommel of the saddle, making sure the knot was tight though she tried to keep it loose. Hengist's man pulled Gryphon to his knees while he pulled Lancelot's unconscious body onto the horse, tying his hands as well.

"And one last touch." Hengist pulled out a flint.

"What are you doing?" Ryll asked in alarm.

He struck the flint until he had a spark, leaning down to touch the spark to the wooden house. The flames took, licking upwards at the frame of the house.

"No!" Ryll screamed.

"Shut it or he dies!" Hengist shouted at her. He mounted his own horse, grabbing Owl's lead rope. Ryll watched helplessly as the small cottage went up in flames. She refused to cry, but the sight was almost too much for her. Hengist led them away from the village heading west. Ryll watched as the flames grew until their cottage began to collapse. She felt as if the flames were consuming her along with her home. It was like watching her family home burn again. The memories pushed up against the backs of her eyes, but this time there was nowhere safe waiting to receive her.